Ancient
by tmcala
Summary: /Kyle is certain this is the worst birthday party that has ever been thrown./ In which everyone's older. K2, Stebe, Candy, Creek
1. Chapter 1

**Ancient~**

Chapter 1

Something hit Bebe in the head. At least, she was pretty sure. Wait, there it was again. She reached a hand up, without opening her eyes (she was trying to hold onto some hope that she might fall back asleep), to find two nerf pellets wedged in her curly blonde hair. Bebe threw the pellets and snuggled back into her pillow. _Please let me sleep, for the love of God._

"Hand over the goddamn gun!"

Well, she wouldn't be getting back to sleep, but at least someone was handling it.

Bebe had been one of those girls who wanted to be a mother. As if it was a profession. When she wasn't preoccupied with shoes and being a spoiled whore or whatever she thought was important as a child, Bebe dreamed of having a nice house with a nice husband and kids. Lots of kids.

Wendy sometimes liked to smirk at how Bebe's life had turned out. Even though it so easily could've been hers and Bebe was very happy with it. It'd been weird, of course, marrying a man who had been such a huge part of her best friend's life. Wendy had always claimed she didn't mind, and Bebe believed this because Wendy was so against marriage. Except, Bebe's friend was married now.

Bebe liked to think that she'd gotten everything she'd wanted. Sure, there were things about her life that weren't perfect, but she had her four beautiful, crazy boys, a nice house, and Stan. Their relationship hadn't started in the most noble of ways, but Bebe was certain she wouldn't be happier with anyone else.

Reluctantly, the blonde opened her eyes to find three little boys standing at the foot of her bed. They each clutched an obnoxiously orange nerf gun to their chest like it was made of gold. "No way," the shortest one replied.

"That's unfortunate," the first voice said. The man who occupied the bed with Bebe leaned forward, quickly snatching the three guns. Bebe watched looks of anger pass over the faces of her sons. They jumped on the bed, climbing over their dad.

"Dad, stop it!"

"Max, you kicked me in the balls!"

"Git offa me!"

Bebe sighed; sleep no longer even a wishful thought. She sat up and rolled her eyes at the mess of blonde heads that made up most of the bed. "That's enough!" she said.

Immediately, the impromptu wrestling match stopped and four sets of eyes met her brown ones. Stan smiled that her with that little half grin. Bebe was a sucker for that grin "Everyone pile on Mom!" he exclaimed. "But, watch out for that baby, I guess," he added as an afterthought.

The grin multiplied by three and suddenly Bebe was covered in crazy, dirty, wild boys. Just the way she liked it.

* * *

Wendy's 5 AM alarm blared. She hated her 5 AM alarm. You can't just slack off on these things, though. If she just pressed the snooze button today, then she'd be tempted to do the same thing again tomorrow. Her whole system would be off. Wendy could not live with that.

The ink-haired woman rolled over towards the alarm clock, her arm reaching towards the machine. Wendy's finger hit the button and the ringing stopped. She sat up, rolling her head around on her neck and cracking her ankles. The moment Wendy was going to stand up, a large arm snaked its way around her waist, dragging her body back across the wrinkled sheets. "Let go of me," she stated calmly.

"Mehh," the owner of the arm responded.

Wendy rolled her dark eyes. "Jesus Christ, you're not 8 years old! I'll call you Cartman if you keep acting like a child."

A kiss was pressed against her back. "Only if you let me call you 'ho'."

Sometimes Wendy forgot why she ever thought it was a good idea to marry Eric Cartman. "I'm serious; some people need to start their day right now. Remove the arm," Wendy ordered. Eric made no motion to retract his limb, wrapping it tighter around her thin waist.

"Wendy," he whined, dragging out the last syllable of her name excessively, "stay in bed with me!"

"Are you going to let go of me?" Wendy asked. She was already a few minutes behind on her schedule.

Her husband scoffed. "Doubtful, woman." She relaxed her body the slightest bit and he was able to pull her all the way back against him. Eric's other arm curved around her as well. "There," he sighed, brushing her long hair behind her ear. "Isn't this much better than whatever else you think you have to do at the ass-crack of dawn?"

Wendy groaned. Another day lost. "Always the charmer." But, she snuggled into his embrace the slightest bit.

* * *

Butters Stotch wasn't _lonely_. Any more. He had watched as all his friends went off and got married, had babies, started lives. And he still didn't even know exactly what he wanted. Cartman would joke, except maybe they weren't always jokes, he was kind of an ass, about whether Butters wanted to be a boy or girl that day. He always shrugged in response. Why did it really matter?

He'd always been a little bit girly. Not so much into what the other boys were. He didn't always fit right in with the girls either. So he switched back and forth. And he'd been doing it so long, nobody even really cared any more. Except Cartman, but the real secret there was that if he really didn't like someone, he just didn't even bother. Cartman always bothered with Butters.

The only problem came when everyone had someone except him. Butters glanced around and all of his friends were in love. He didn't have anyone. The blonde lived in a nice apartment in South Park with his dog. He made a decent amount of money. Adjusted. That's what he was. A nice, adjusted, conservative young adult who didn't really know if he wanted to be a boy or a girl.

He would've been OK with that except for the loneliness.

The something that cured his loneliness was a mistake of a something. It came in the form of a smiling little girl named Annabel. And _she_ came from a drunken, confused night with a very beautiful, but irresponsible girl named Lexus.

Butters Stotch was a very happy person.

* * *

You'd assume that when he slept, he'd be calm. That as his major systems went into minor hibernation, his twitching would to. How can someone be anxious even in sleep? Tweek managed.

He was such a restless sleeper that sometimes Craig swore he'd prefer to sleep on the floor. That had to be better than getting kicked in your sleep _every single night_. He was relatively calm now, though. Tweek's face was pressed in to a pillow, almost covered by his unruly blonde hair. Craig was up earlier than usual; it was odd for him to be awake before the other man. Tweek could rarely sleep for longer than a couple of hours at a time.

The baby had woken Craig up. Well, not exactly, but it was the baby's fault. Craig could've _sworn_ he'd hear him cry. He was going crazy apparently. Phantom crying. A small smile, the only kind of smile one ever found on Craig Tucker's face, appeared just at the thought of their baby. Cole.

Craig wasn't the most affectionate person on Earth. At least in public. But, contrary to popular belief, it had been his idea to have Cole. The kid was a couple months old now and the men were just getting used to having a baby around. Tweek had been terrified at first. His panic disorder kicking in constantly. He'd drop him, he'd feed him wrong, etc. etc. Typical Tweek.

Sort-of-consciously, Craig reached across the bed and buried his fingers in Tweek's blonde hair, softly massaging his head. Tweek had even been afraid to be Cole's biological father. Screeching something about what the doctors might _actually_ do with his 'sample'. It was fine though, because Tweek had the more feminine look of the two men. It wasn't so hard to find a woman that his general features.

Craig was certain they really had it under-control now. The baby was here, hassle free and according to plan. The moment the kid snuggled into Tweek's arm, the blonde's twitching would slow to a _much_ less obnoxious rate. And, Craig? Well, he was happy, which was something. Even though he still didn't smile very much.

A cold hand grasped Craig's wrist, breaking him from his thoughts. Craig smiled a little bit wider.

* * *

"Kyle!" Pinch. "Kyle!"

Kyle Broflovski opened his eyes, pushing a mop of fiery hair from his vision. "The hell?" he asked. It was Kyle's day off, his only day off of this week. His plan had been to sleep in.

"I think I'm old," the other man said, worry tainting his voice.

Kyle's eyes met Kenny's for a fraction of a moment before he pressed a pillow against his face. "Kenny. You woke me up to tell me that?" It was Kenny's 30th birthday, so the comment was understandable. But still not a logical reason for Kyle to be awake.

The blonde man nodded, eyes still wide with worry. "Yeah, fucking 30? That's ancient."

"You aren't old," Kyle replied. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing he was up. He had to set up for the party. Bebe and Wendy had _insisted_ there be a party. 30 is a big deal, after all. Kyle had gotten past caring about his age a long time ago. Kenny still cared about a lot of these things, though, maybe it had something to do with all the dying. "You look exactly the same as you did like 10 years ago, seriously."

Kenny shook his head. "Can we talk about this? 30 is, I don't know, like I'm finally an adult or something. You're still 29 for like three months, man. You wouldn't know." The taller man scooted himself up against his husband, throwing an arm across Kyle's chest.

"Kenny, we're married and have two kids. I think you've been an adult for a while," Kyle replied. With thin fingers, he pushed blonde pieces of hair off Kenny's forehead. "And, even if you are old, I like you just as much."

That was exactly why Kenny needed Kyle. The redhead always knew how to bring him back down to Earth. Grinning devilishly, Kenny pressed a kiss against his jawline. "Can I get a little present, sugar?"

* * *

**A/N: Aha! New and improved and I like it a lot better! Style is hard for me to write, even though I do like them, so K2 it is! If you read the original, I hope you like this better, and if you didn't, I hope you just liked it! And I came up with most wonderful plot twist/secret! So excited :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After a few minutes of "dog-pile on Mom", Stan promptly kicked their three oldest sons out of the bedroom, telling them to "go eat breakfast or something". The two dark haired boys and smaller blonde tore out of the room and footsteps pounded down the stairs.

Stan grinned, running his hand over Bebe's pregnant belly. "We have," he began, pressing a kiss against her neck, "approximately," a chuckle as she squirmed, "4 minutes," Bebe's fingers threaded into his short, black hair, "until they start fighting about something completely unimportant." Finally, his lips met hers and anything she had planned to say in response was lost to the kiss.

Stan's lips mapped their way across her face and his skin brushed lightly against hers. Bebe shuddered. "Stop, stop, stop," the woman muttered, pushing her husband away, "your face is like a Brillo pad. Go shave."

Raising an eyebrow slightly, Stan leaned back in and rubbed his stubble across Bebe's skin. Bebe giggled, squirming away from the man. Seconds later, a cry sounded and yelling exploded from beneath them. They'd woken up Zane and, just as Stan had predicted, the older three were now fighting.

"Dude! That show's stupid!"

"No it's not!"

"I wanna watch Terrance and Phillip!"

Hands in desperate need (in Wendy's opinion) of a manicure covered Bebe's chocolate colored eyes. "I'll deal with them, you get Zane?" she suggested.

Zane. Stan hated that name. Bebe quickly left the room to end the war that had begun over the TV and Stan pinched his nose between two fingers. He stood up from the bed, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his back. Stan was still what would be considered an "athletic build"; since he and Kenny often spent a lot of time playing basketball and stuff. Kyle and Cartman worked too much.

Anyway, Zane. See, Bebe and Stan had four boys, which was already traumatic enough for a girl who had always wanted to be a mom. He understood his wife's desire to have a little girl; he'd be upset if they didn't have any sons, in the same way. On top of that, though, Bebe liked to blame Stan for her upset. Saying he picked these boring jock, thug names for their sons. Jack, Max, Chase.

It wasn't his fault that those seemed like perfectly good names to him, and she hadn't exactly argued at the time. Bebe just _had_ to sneak Zane in there. ("Stan! What if this is our last baby?") His sister had recently informed him that Zane was the name of the gay kid on some stupid TV show she'd watched when she was younger. Not that he had anything against gay people, just look at his best friends for Christ's sake. And, since it was Shelly, it might've been a lie; they still didn't have the best of a relationship. Entering the room Zane would soon be handing over to the new baby, he snatched the little blonde boy out of his crib. Stan walked down the hallway, with Zane making little 'waking up' noises against his shoulder. The toddler fisted his hand into the hair at Stan's neck.

The sight of Bebe making breakfast greeted him in the kitchen. By the TV, the three older boys seemed to have agreed on what cartoon to watch, the backs of their heads facing him as they sat much too close to the screen.

They were one of those annoyingly happy families, Stan was fairly certain. At least, he was happy. Life was perfect. Bebe made breakfast for him, he had all these awesome kids, they had money. Things were good, and Stan liked when things were good.

* * *

Wendy woke up for the second time that morning, alarm free. Eric was spooned up against her back, his thick arms still wrapped around her waist. He was an ass about 80% of the time, Wendy was certain, but the other 20%, she loved him so much, it made up for it. Plus, she knew her husband better than most people and she knew he was only a dick to the people he loved…which made the whole thing at least a little bit better.

Still, she had been reluctant, terrified, in all honesty, to let herself love him. Eric had been after her for _ages_ before she gave in. Wendy didn't like to be the compliant one. She hated the feeling of being _beneath_ someone. But, Eric Cartman never gave up. He was there swearing he would never stop chasing her, while she swore she'd never want to stop running. But, then, there came a time, when they were both around 28 and Wendy found she had no excuses left. In her attempts to outrun his wiles, she had fallen for him. Which was kind of embarrassing really.

Snuggling up against Eric's burly form, Wendy's stomach heaved. This had happened the last few mornings, and it was starting to piss her off a little bit. She rolled out of his arms the moment she realized she was going to puke, dashing into the master bathroom. The door was closed quietly behind her; she'd really rather not wake Eric up.

When she was done, Wendy sat with her back against the wall. She ran her hands through her ink black hair, wincing as they shook lightly on her skull. Another of Wendy's dislikes was being afraid. It was so…weak. But, here she was, afraid. Her dark gaze lingered on the drawer underneath the sink. She was so tired; she wanted to crawl into bed and never wake up.

Eric's fist pounded against the door. "Wendy! What the fuck are you doing in there? Did you just blow chunks?"

Wendy groaned. "Go away," she yelled.

"I gotta take a piss, though," her husband responded.

How pleasant. "Go downstairs! I'm busy."

She listened as Eric's footsteps disappeared down the hall, muttering something along the lines of "Whatever".

Wendy placed her head between her knees. She could see herself doing it. Opening that goddamn drawer and knowing for certain her suspicions. A baby. Her, Wendy Marie Testaburger-Cartman, with a baby. _Eric Cartman's _baby.

* * *

"Tweek," Craig murmured, lightly shaking his shoulder, "Tweek, you have to take your pill."

The blonde shifted out of Craig's reach, his caramel brown eyes flying open. "Craig-ngh- I don't r-really want t-to take the pill. It m-might not even - gah- be what we think it is. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT'S IN THERE!"

Craig grabbed Tweek's face in his hands. "Hey," he said softly, "you like the pill. It makes you calm."

Tweek shook his head rapidly back and forth and, in response, Craig nodded his. The dark haired man pulled his partner out of the bed, pushing him towards the bathroom. The pair stood facing the mirror. Craig's gray eyes were hooded slightly while they adjusted to the harsh light of the bathroom. Tweek's were as open and round as ever. The blonde picked up one of the few prescription bottles littered across the vanity. He read the label quickly to himself before handing the bottle to Craig. Tweek usually couldn't open the child-lock lid, especially before his morning pill. He was about to shake the medication onto Tweek's outstretched palm when a cry stopped him.

"O-oh, C-cole's up. I'll g-go get him," Tweek said. He was trying to get out of taking the pill, a common event.

Craig grasped his hand semi-tightly around the other's wrist. "B-but, Craig! Ack-He's crying!" Tweek explained. He couldn't _stand_ when Cole was crying. _Too much pressure_. Luckily, their son was a pretty even-tempered baby. He smiled a lot, giggled, didn't cry too much. He just didn't sleep too well and neither did Tweek. So, by association, Craig didn't either. The tall man resented that.

Tweek was struggling against Craig's hold, but he was obviously no match. The brunette brought his other hand up to Tweek's pale face, pulling his jaw down slightly, and tossing a pill down his throat. He grabbed a water bottle off the dresser and brought it to the smaller man's quivering lips. "Ack! C-craig," he whined.

Letting go of his wrist, Craig exited the bathroom. He placed a kiss against the side of Tweek's skull. "Shut up, you'll be perfectly happy the moment it kicks in," he told him.

* * *

Annabel was sitting on Butters' lap and they were reading the comics. He liked the funnies because, well, they were funny. He propped his chin atop the little girl's thin blonde hair. People always told him she looked just like him. He was glad she didn't look like her mother. Annabel had never met her mother. Sometimes he felt bad about it, but most of the time he didn't.

His daughter smacked her little hands against the table, giggling. "That was pretty funny, wasn't it, Annabel?" Butters responded. "The Peanuts are the best." Annabel was two years old, and Butters knew that she wasn't laughing at the comic strip. He was often afraid, living with only a two year old little girl was driving him crazy, but he was fairly certain he wasn't all the way there yet.

The thin man stood up, holding the little girl against his hip. "What do you wanna eat for breakfast, sweetheart?" He walked into his kitchenette, opening the cabinet that held the cereal and other snacks. Annabel pointed at the Cheerios. "Cheers!" she said excitedly

Butters grabbed the box out of the cabinet, set Annabel on the counter, and found a bowl. He hummed softly as he poured the cereal into the bowl. "Loo, loo, loo." His phone rang and Butters reached over and grabbed it off the counter. "Um, hello?" he answered.

"Butters! You're basically a chick! What does it mean when a bitch locks herself in a bathroom and is probably puking out her guts?" Cartman's voice echoed out of the phone.

"Eric?"

"Yes, Butters, of course it's me. Who the fuck else would it be, retard?" Cartman sounded worried slightly, but was trying to cover it by being an ass.

Butters knew how much Cartman loved Wendy. This was his way of showing concern. "Well, gee, Eric, I don't know. Maybe she doesn't feel too good?" he provided. There were a lot of reasons people threw up, Butters knew. That was just the most obvious.

There was a clatter on the other end of the call and Annabel reached towards the cereal. "Cheers, Dada!" she exclaimed. Butters pushed the bowl over to her, placing his hand on her leg so she didn't fall off the counter. "No shit, she doesn't feel well! She's up there dying or something and I have no fucking clue what to do!" the other man screamed.

The blonde watched the handful of Cheerios his daughter had tossed sprinkle across the floor. Hamburgers. She always did that. "Well, you know, Eric, Wendy could be having a baby."

There was silence from the obnoxious man for moment or two before Butters heard a sharp gasp. "Butters, you're a genius! A genius, Butters." Static sounded as he hung up.

Eric always said the oddest things.

* * *

Kyle brought the cup of coffee towards his lips, inhaling the tantalizing smell. He needed to think of a way to get Kenny out of the house for the day. The redhead sat Indian style in his chair at the kitchen table, munching on a bagel. He glanced over at the fridge where a calendar hung. Miko had a T-ball game at noon which was prime, really. Kenny could take her and Nick could tag along and play at the park.

The man in question entered the kitchen, still groggy despite having been up for a while. Kenny pulled up his slipping pajama bottoms and grabbed a Coke from the fridge. The can hissed and popped as his fingers opened it. "You shouldn't drink pop in the morning; it's bad for your teeth and probably a lot of other things too."

Kenny rolled blue eyes at him. "If my teeth were going to go to shit, they would've all ready. I didn't go to the dentist until I was like 20." The blonde smiled, baring all his teeth and leaning down towards Kyle. "Wanna check them?"

"You're taking Miko to T-ball," Kyle told him. He pushed Kenny's face away with his hand. The other man nodded in response. "I have to do bills and some work, so you might as well take Nick, too."

A raised eyebrow could be seen beneath Kenny's bangs. "You're going to work on your day off?" Kenny was usually a pretty easily convinced person, but he knew his husband very well, and Kyle was not always the best liar.

Kyle unfolded himself from the chair and placed his plate in the sink. "I'm kind of the bread-winner here, Ken," he reminded his husband.

Kenny rolled his blue eyes and walked over to the staircase. "YUMIKO! NICK! IT'S TIME TO SPEND SOME QUALITY TIME WITH YOUR COOLER DAD!" he yelled.

Seconds later, pounding could be heard from above, accompanied by a high-pitched voice. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" A dark haired, horribly petite whirlwind flew down the stairs. The hurricane stopped, giving the man before her a winning smile. "Good morning, Daddy."

Yumiko, or, as she preferred to be called, Miko, was the Asian child Bebe had predicted Kyle would eventually want to have the moment the pair came out to their friends. Smart as a whip, adorable, charming, tiny. Everything a little girl should be. The perfect child. She even had the typical Japanese name, to make it seem like her dads immersed her in her culture on a daily basis. That was Kyle's idea; Kenny wanted to name her something _easy_.

As Miko hopped into the kitchen to bother her "Dad", a smaller, paler figure appeared at the top of the stairs. "Hey buddy!" Kenny called. "We're gonna go to the park today. Sound fun?"

A grin, a nod, three fingers being held in a mouth. No words, never any words. He didn't talk and they didn't think that was normal. All of Stan's kids and Butters' daughter spoke much earlier. Nick's hand that was not in his mouth, held tightly onto the railing as he slowly marched down. Kenny waited patiently for his son to finish the descent before walking back into the kitchen with the three-year old.

A colorful array of cereal boxes stood in front of Miko, who tapped her chin in deliberation. "Lucky Charms for me and Nick wants Frosted Flakes." She glanced at her younger brother for a moment, looking for assurance. Another grin, another nod.

Kenny watched Kyle's eyebrows thread together.

Miko glanced up from her bowl of sugar with a look of realization. "I almost forgot! Happy Birthday, Daddy," she said. Kenny ruffled her hair, muttering a "thanks". He walked over and wrapped his arms around Kyle's shoulders, knowing their son's silence bothered the redhead much more. Kyle buried his face into Kenny's chest.

For some reason, he had a feeling his 30th birthday was going to be an interesting one.

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty, so I'll probably be updating every three-ish days for at least the first 5 chapters because I have them all written from the original. And after that, we'll see :D **

**In case you got the impression that Wendy doesn't love Cartman, which I'm sort of worried might've been suggested, that isn't true. She's just...scared, I guess. Also, in case this was confusing, Miko calls Kyle "Dad" and Kenny "Daddy" :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Miko was the only girl on her T-Ball team. There wasn't any rule preventing girls from playing, but it was Kenny's idea that maybe most 4 and 5 year old little girls wanted to take dance lessons or gymnastics instead. All Miko wanted to do was play baseball with Max. Something neither Kenny nor Stan could understand, considering everyone they knew had _hated_ baseball as a kid. Kyle thought it was good that Miko wasn't falling into the trap of modern sexist views. So he signed her up the moment she asked, that small charming smile easing its way across her cute face, only five and already a manipulator who could rival Cartman.

And then he signed Kenny up to coach the fucking team. The flaxen haired man wasn't really into that. He took to sitting in the bleachers with Stan, who had also denied the opportunity to coach (something about the last time he had coached a bunch of 5 year olds), a gray area between having to coach and getting the shit beat out of himself like his Mr. Marsh used to. The only problem came up when the men that _were _chosen to coach were less than happy to find a girl on their team. But, that was easily solved by a nasty, borderline threatening email signed _Kyle Broflovski_.

The man walked towards the bleachers, noting Stan was already there. He looked bored, surprise, surprise. Nick tugged on his shirt, a silent smile on his face. The three year old opened his palm up towards his father. "Dude, what the fuck is that? Is that goose shit, Nick? Put that down, kid!" Kenny exclaimed.

Stan turned in the direction the voice was coming from, unsurprised to find it was leaving Kenny's mouth. His blonde friend, along with his two adopted kids, was approaching the field. Miko jogged ahead of the other two because, as per usual when Kenny was in charge, the family was running late. Stan waved embarrassedly. Kenny grabbed the little boys hand, spit on it, wiped it on his jeans, and declared it "good enough". He sent Nick off to the park where Jack and Chase were already playing.

Kenny jumped up onto the bleachers from behind. He swung his long legs around and clasped Stan's shoulder. Stan grinned at his friend. "Happy Birthday, man. The big 3-0, how does it feel?"

It was easily apparent that Kenny was different than he used to be in high school. The blonde had had to deal with way more shit than he should've when they were teenagers, and now that he had a normal life he was taking advantage of it. Wendy often claimed he was simply immature, but the rest of their group was so relieved to see him acting like such a tard, that they hardly cared. Stan was glad to see that his friend could be happy and carefree and that he had ended up marrying Kyle. Even though the notion of it had majorly freaked Stan out at first, his two best friends getting married and, y'know, doing _that_, he eventually came to realize how good they were for each other. Kyle was much less angry and high-strung when Kenny was around and Kenny was more himself when Kyle was there.

Kenny shrugged in response. "Fuckin' weird, man." He watched his daughter's team walk out on the field, many of the players proceeding to sit down in the sand. "How's Bebe?"

"Huge!" Stan exclaimed. "But, still great, of course. I mean, it's Bebe. Seriously though, I thought she was bad with Zane, but this fifth one…"

The other man laughed, replying to Miko's wave distractedly. He was used to Stan's reverent attitude towards the objects of his affection. He'd always been that way. "When's she due, again?"

"Exactly three weeks from yesterday," Stan replied proudly.

* * *

Wendy left the house only moments after leaving the bathroom. Her hair was perfectly straight, clothes perfectly ironed, perfectly perfect, as always. Only someone who knew her as well as Cartman did, which was really only Bebe and himself, would notice the slight waver in her always confident step and the slight redness around her eyes

The door slammed and Wendy's sport car revved, pealing down their street. Probably off to Stan's perfect little home to cry with Bebe. Moments later, Cartman was on the phone with Butters again, telling him to get his skinny ass over. Pronto. Butters complained slightly, something about Annabel; Cartman could picture Butters nervously rubbing his knuckles together as he spoke, the phone clenched between his shoulder and ear. "Just bring her here. Quickly, OK? I don't have all fucking day."

Butters arrived with Annabel, who was wearing a coat so pink and fluffy that Cartman couldn't even tell where the little snot's face was, to find a white board propped up on the kitchen table. His mind was immediately thrown back to when the two men were children and he _constantly_ was dragged into Eric's little schemes. Butters kicked off his shoes and pulled his Park County College sweatshirt down at the hem.

Upon seeing his friend, Cartman sighed. "God damnit, Butters," he muttered. "Can you please invest in some jeans that _wouldn't _also fit my wife?"

"W-well, I like these jeans. I'll probably change before Kenny's party, though. A-annabel and I were still in our P.J.s when you called." Butters blushed and set his daughter on the ground, unzipping the heavy coat.

Cartman frowned; he was more than a little surprised that Butters was attending the party, based on…well, all that. "I'm choosing to ignore that extremely faggy comment. Butters, how exactly do we figure out if Wendy's pregnant?" the brunette asked.

"She hasn't told you she's having a baby?" the blonde asked. He wasn't sure why Wendy wouldn't have told Cartman. They were married, so why would there be any problem with a baby?

"No, Butters, she hasn't told me," Eric explained calmly. "And that is exactly why you're going to help me figure this out."

* * *

Craig was feeding Cole a bottle. Tweek liked to watch him do this. He was so tender and out of character that it was almost funny, but mostly just nice. Tweek could feel his pill kicking in; lucid thoughts filling his head and calmness invading his body. Craig was right, he did like the pill. Even though there were a couple side effects, it made him a little tired and nauseous when he first started, it made everything easy for Tweek. He could drive, read, hold his baby.

Tweek sat down on the bed, inching himself closer to Craig and settling his head down on his shoulder. Craig passed the baby over to the blonde. "I have to go to work for a while, but I'll be back in time for Kenny's party. You'll be OK," he explained. A statement, not a question.

Tweek smiled and nodded in response, relaxed by the small sucking noises Cole made as he drank the formula. When he finished, Tweek burped him and stood up. Cole was a cute baby. He had a huge mess of dark hair, brown eyes, not quite the same as Tweek's, obviously, but close enough to make the child look like a mix of his two parents, and a giggly personality. Which came out of nowhere because Craig had _certainly_ never been described as giggly and Tweek was often too neurotic to find things funny. In his many hours spent with the child (Tweek worked with his father at the coffee shop and at the moment he was taking some leave), Tweek had decided Cole probably felt safe and therefore could afford to be happy.

Sometimes, Tweek felt safe. Mainly when Craig was around. The dark haired man had helped Tweek out a lot since high school. His parents failed to take him to a doctor about his wide range of issues because it was almost as if they never noticed, or maybe they just didn't care. Craig was livid when he found out. Tweek had never really thought about getting help. Which just went to show how much he needed Craig.

He supposed Craig needed him as well. Craig wasn't really into change or craziness and, to avoid these things, he made systems. The dark-haired man needed to have something to do at every moment to assure there was no time for anything out of the ordinary. Tweek certainly kept Craig busy, but also provided an occasion deviation from normalcy. Just to insure Craig didn't become a robot or anything like that.

Having dressed Cole for the day, Tweek wandered into the kitchen. He liked to clean. It was so rhythmic and simple. Completing one task after another until a job was finished. These were the types of things Tweek was supposed to fill his life with. He strapped Cole into the bouncy chair on the kitchen table and turned on some music. The blonde man bobbed his unruly-haired head along with the beat. _I'm through with these pills that make me sit still. Are you feeling fine? Yes I feel just fine!_ Soon, Tweek was dancing around the kitchen while cleaning, something that had become a normal event every day he spent with his little son. Craig didn't know about it; he'd probably be freaked out.

Cole giggled and Tweek smiled. _Someday you'll be fine. Yes, I'll be just fine_.

* * *

**A/N: Ohhh, it's short. Sorry :( Anyway, the song Tweek dances to is called "Everything is Alright" by Motion City Soundtrack. It's legitimately _about_ Tweek I think, kind of creepily so. Listen to it, I'm serious. There's another fic in which he dances to the same song...while cleaning. I promise you I wrote this before reading that fic. **

**Have a fantastic weekend!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Kyle Broflovski was married to one of his best friends. Kenny was many things, many, _many_ other things, but first, he had simply been Kyle's friend. It's kind of beautiful to be in love with your best friend. You're already vulnerable, accepted, yourself.

The only probably with being a gay man married to one of your best friends is that you usually have very few people to turn to when it comes time to bitch about your husband.

It's not like he could talk to Stan or Cartman. Stan was still Kyle's best friend, no questions asked, but the redhead knew Stan would probably never get to the point where he could have a conversation about Kenny and Kyle's marital issues and Cartman was…well, Cartman. That was why Kyle became friends with Bebe and Wendy. Not because he particularly enjoyed their company, they were alright most of the time, but mainly because he needed someone to talk about certain things to. And they were on some sort of quest to make him their trendy gay counterpart.

They were both coming over soon because of their insistence that he throw a party for Kenny. Kyle made them plan it. He thought they were both much too excited for a small party whose invitees were only their closest friends.

The redhead was sitting at the kitchen table, writing out proposals for work. He liked his work, even though most people thought he did it because it was what his father did. Kyle was good at fighting, years of being friends with Cartman as his practice. His pencil, he always handwrote with pencil and _then_ typed it, scrawled across the page at a breakneck speed, a distraction from what he really wanted to be thinking about.

That goddamned phone call.

Nick didn't talk. There it was, bluntly out in the open. In fact, the kid rarely made any noise at all unless he was deeply upset or distressed. With a lawyer for a dad and a psychotic protester for a mother, one would think Kyle could solve this problem. But, the thing was, he couldn't. Never in his life had Kyle met something he couldn't argue, bargain, or think his way out of. Now, there was. And it came in the form of a precious little boy who just happened to be his son.

Today, the doctor had informed him that he didn't know what else to do. Nick would continue going to his special school, a school that Kenny drove 45 minutes to every morning, with other kids just like him, but they couldn't make him talk. Nothing and, apparently, no _one_ could _make_ Nick talk.

The pencil broke. Kyle quickly jammed it into the electric sharpener at his side for a few seconds. He placed it back to the paper, continuing to write.

It broke again. Kyle groaned, slamming his fists against the wooden table top and sending papers flying. His fists grasped into his red curls as bony elbows met the table. Kyle would _not _cry about this. He wouldn't.

The red haired man was trying to convince himself fully of this fact when the front door flew open and the sound of heels clicked through the front hall. Wendy Testaburger…or Cartman, now, he guessed, was just as terrifying at the moment as she was beautiful. She walked with a purpose, her ink black hair flying out from her head and a small bag clutched tightly in a perfectly manicured grip. Her face was screwed up in distressed anger and he noticed her chin give the slightest wobble as she noisily pulled a chair from the table and plopped down.

"Come in," Kyle mumbled.

Wendy sighed. "Where the fuck is Bebe?"

His eyes shot up to stare at the woman. Wendy rarely got angry enough to drop 'fuck' in a conversation, which was a good thing, because when she was angry… "What's the matter with you?" Kyle asked.

"Just…some stuff." Wendy's eyes closed for a moment. "I-it's really n-not that big a deal," she continued shakily. Now, Kyle didn't _like_ to cry, but Wendy _never_ cried. The redhead was in shock. Suddenly, she glared at him, dark eyes enflamed. "You never told me where Bebe is!"

Kyle shrugged. "I figured she was coming with you."

He was right to assume that, Wendy knew. They normally would've come over together, but she had been so _angry_ when she left home, she'd completely forgotten to call Bebe. Wendy felt awful; Bebe was much too pregnant to be driving. Pushing back tears, she noticed how upset Kyle looked. It was uncharacteristic since he was normally more the angry type, while, out of all the men, Stan was the crier. She reached across the table towards the redhead, her wedding and engagement rings glistening under the light, and ran a hand along his bushy curls. "What's the matter with you?" she asked, almost mockingly.

_What's the matter?_ A lot of the things were the matter. Nick didn't talk. Kenny seemed completely unperturbed by that fact. He spent way too much time working. His mother still very rarely talked to him. Kyle wasn't sure where to begin. He stared at Wendy, Wendy who seemed to know everything. Surely she would know this. "Why won't he talk, Wends? Why can't I make him talk?"

Wendy's eyebrows knitted together. Kyle looked so sad and it made her feel like such a bitch. She had no idea what to say or how he felt. Wendy wasn't a parent, a mom. At least, not yet. Bebe should be doing this, because Bebe was nurturing and motherly and sweet. But, only Wendy sat opposite Kyle at that moment. "He'll talk when he's ready, I guess. You guys are doing everything you can and I know you'll never give up on him. Just wait it out."

Kyle's green eyes met Wendy's after a moment. "You think?" he sniffed.

She nodded, letting a light smile cover her pretty face. "Sure. Everything happens for a reason, right?" And the bag Wendy still clutched in her hand seemed to whisper, _Even the bad things_.

* * *

Bebe drove cautiously through South Park's early spring slush to the Broflovski/McCormick residence. She never really knew what to call it. "Kyle's and Kenny's" was fine, but it was so much quicker to use the last name. Like, for example, "I'm going to the Marshs'" And then you could be visiting Bebe, Stan, Jack, any of them.

The blonde contemplated these things as she listened to Zane gurgling happily to himself in the backseat. She couldn't exactly trust Stan with all four boys alone at a park, so she had been forced to bring the two-year-old with her. He was a good dad, a really good dad, actually. Way smarter than his own father and twice as attentive. Stan and Bebe had gotten married very quickly when she'd gotten pregnant with Jack. Things had started roughly and she'd been appropriately terrified, but Stan had been stronger than she'd ever noticed, and they'd pulled through. They were normal now. Suburban and clichéd and happy.

Pressing a hand against a slight pain in her current pregnancy, Bebe frowned. Everyone assumed she was one of those people who liked being pregnant. Simply because lately she always was. She didn't, though. Being huge and slow and sleepy was not on Bebe's list of favorite things. Other women seemed to glow with pregnancy, Bebe usually felt nasty. Even though Stan always begged to differ.

She pulled into the driveway, groaning as she realized Wendy had beaten her to the house. Bebe wasn't looking forward to listening in on another Kyle/Wendy throw down. Something she figured was inevitable because that was just the way they were and always had been. The two smartest kids in class couldn't _get along_. That'd be much too simple. Needless to say, the pregnant woman, struggling with Zane in her arms, was alarmed to find what she did on the other side of the front door.

That being Wendy sobbing onto Kyle's shoulder, while the redhead pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, something so Stan that Bebe almost wanted to laugh. Except that her best friend, her strong, ice queen best friend was crying. It wasn't just a few, ladylike tears either. These were body-wracking sobs. Sobs like someone had died or hurt her. Sobs that had certainly never left the mouth of Wendy Testaburger before.

Bebe's warm brown eyes asked a silent question to Kyle, who had finally noticed her presence. In response, he rubbed Wendy's back softly. "Bebe's here," he told her.

As Wendy crossed the room into Bebe's arms, a look of relief passed over Kyle's freckled face. "What happened?" she mouthed at him.

Green eyes rolled as the man held a short, white stick up for her to see. Bebe hadn't notice it beforehand. That certainly explained the tears. Her heart melted for her best friend, unable to even fathom how she must be feeling. They were getting…not old, but everyone else had kids besides Wendy and Cartman. "So, it was negative?" Bebe whispered, petting her friend's inky hair.

Kyle's head shook and Bebe's eyes widened. _Positive?_ She couldn't understand why Wendy would be upset about a _positive_ pregnancy test. Why didn't she want to have a baby? Bebe knew her friend had never been as excited about being a mother as she was; Wendy had lots of very big dreams, after all. But, every girl wants to have babies, right?

Then Bebe thoughts went back to a time when she held a pregnancy test in her hands, one that had a very similar response, and cried also. For reasons she had never told anyone except the woman in her arms. She didn't want to think about that. Bebe wrapped her arms tighter around her best friend.

Bebe was morose, Kyle was annoyed, and Wendy just continued to sob.

* * *

"Let me get this straight, Butters," the man stated, "we'd have to find her pregnancy test in order to find out if she's pregnant. Unless I can get her to tell me?"

Eric Cartman was a master manipulator. And he'd been told so in several contexts. However, his one weakness, the one person he had to actually _try_ to control was Wendy.

Butters's blonde hair shook with his nod. "I s'pose."

A devious smile spread across the other man's face. "Well, let's get to it, bitch."

* * *

**A/N: I don't know how other people feel about Wendy/Kyle/Bebe best friendship, but I find it kind of adorable. This story is kind of delving into its angstiness now, but it won't all be like that, no worries :D**

**Being snowed in is AWESOME, let me tell you...not. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Kenny relaxed back into the bleachers. He'd learned rather quickly T-ball was probably the most boring sport ever created, no shit. Some of the kids couldn't even hit the ball off the tee, for Christ's sake. It prided him that Miko was relatively good. She tended to face the right direction when her team was in the field. The same could not be said for Max Marsh. That kid needed some serious help on the field.

"I think I need to tell Max to turn around; he looks retarded," Stan muttered.

Kenny laughed in response, tipping his blonde head back into the sun. "Maybe he is retarded, Stanley."

Stan rolled his blue eyes. Kenny acted like a ten year old, really. "You probably shouldn't say that in public, especially about someone else's kid. There are parents who actually take their job seriously."

The other man considered this statement for a moment. Then he rolled his head on his neck and stood up next to Stan on the bleachers. Kenny nearly towered over the dugout; he could've climbed on top of it. "Yeah, Max!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. "You keep it up, buddy!"

A pair of clear blue eyes looked up from a sand castle being constructed along the baseline and Max gave Kenny a thumbs up. Nearly every head in the bleachers turned to stare incredulously at Stan and Kenny. Stan realized for the first time that he and Kenny were the only men in the stands; every other dad was apparently either an asshole or a coach. After a few minutes, most of the women averted their eyes from Kenny's shit-eating grin, mumbling things like, "Kid wasn't even doing the right thing". Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, embarrassed for both his friend and son. He would probably have a normal life if he didn't hang out with Kenny, Butters, and Cartman.

Max was now trying to do a headstand on the field. He'd probably have to off his kids in order to be normal, too.

Still standing obnoxiously, Kenny opened his mouth again. "Go, Miko, go!" he chanted.

The dark haired man groaned. He might've been able to find that gray area between coaching and making a complete fool of himself, but, did that really matter if the guy he spent the games with hadn't?

* * *

One pill to be taken when he woke up with water. A different one at lunch with food. The same pill from the morning taken again at night. That was Tweek's routine. The only problem was, he couldn't find his lunchtime pill. It wasn't _anywhere_. He wasn't freaking out, though. No, no, definitely not freaking out. If he didn't end up finding it, that was fine. Completely fine. He could go a day without it. And, maybe Craig could find it later and Tweek could take it then. Craig always knew where these kinds of things were.

Tweek calmly opened all of their kitchen cabinets, peering into each of them expectantly, but finding nothing but perfectly organized food. Contrary to popular belief, the blonde was not organized in any way; he didn't have that sort of patience. It was Craig who liked everything in nice straight lines. Lines by height or color or something. Tweek just liked to clean sometimes, which was completely different. Craig's anal retentive nature was probably why Tweek couldn't find his medication.

He could distinctly remember putting the pill next to his sandwich on a plate yesterday right here on the kitchen counter. There was no doubt in his mind that was where he had left them. Right. There. Craig had moved the bottle to put it in some _stupid_ little line somewhere and now Tweek would have to go without.

That would be interesting. It'd been a while since Tweek had skipped a pill because when he did, everything was much worse than before he'd been on medication. Dependency or something. He giggled kind of manically. Serves Craig right for moving the pills, now he'd have to deal with an anxious coffee addict all day. Nothing to panic about, Tweek would be fine, Craig would be the one with problems today.

Tweek grabbed his coffee and went to watch TV with Cole.

* * *

It would be an understatement to say Stan was relieved when the game ended. T-ball was hard to sit through and Kenny had continued to make him look like a retard for the remainder of the game. While the coaches gave some gay post-game speech none of the kids cared about or understood, the man went off to gather Jack, Chase, and Nick.

He quickly went over Bebe's intricately laid out plan. After collecting the kids, he was to go home, try and get Max into the shower and if that failed, throw him in the bathtub and clean him himself. If Jack and Chase had gotten themselves covered in mud and sand (or anything else, for that matter), then they'd have to bathe too. Apparently, there were clothes laid out on their dressers because Stan was supposedly unable to pick out matching clothes. Then they had to wrap Kenny's gift and head over to the party. The plan was 100% fool proof, according to Bebe.

Kenny appeared beside him. "Kyle has banned me from entering our house for some reason. Wanna keep the kids here for a while?" he asked Stan.

Stan froze. Wendy would _castrate_ him if he let it slip they were throwing a party. "No," he replied bluntly. "I'm busy."

"With what? Isn't Bebe probably painting her nails with Wendy or something?" Kenny laughed.

Jack and Chase were gross, but that's what Stan got for leaving them unattended at a playground for two hours. He grabbed the boys by their wrists and hauled them back towards the field. "Sorry, just busy…Sorry!"

Kenny shrugged, going to sit by his son who was perfectly clean and playing in the sandbox. He didn't know if it was a good thing that Nick reminded him of Butters.

* * *

Bebe sighed and wriggled into Kyle's side. Wendy did the same on the redhead's other side. Kyle let out a yelp and pressed them both away by the face with the palms of his hands. "Get off me!" he moaned.

He honestly didn't know how this happened. Bebe and Wendy were supposed to come over to set up and cook for the party they so desperately wanted to have, so that he would not have to. Somehow, this had turned into him crying, Wendy finding out she was pregnant, her crying, Bebe being all motherly, and the three of them snuggling in Kenny and Kyle's bed watching the Lifetime Movie Network. Really, how did these things happen?

"Kyle," Wendy pouted, "you're not being a very good gay friend." Bebe nodded.

"That's because I don't _want_ to be your gay friend. I never _wanted_ to be your gay friend. I'm just a gay guy who's friends with your _husbands_." Kyle's face was slowly turning that shade of red that usually only Cartman could produce. "Why did I have to be the gay friend anyway? What about Kenny? Or Tweek? Or Craig? Or Butters? He's practically gay best friendship personified!"

Across Kyle's body, the woman met gazes and simultaneously, their eyes rolled. "Obviously, Butters would be ideal, but he's Eric's best friend, and it would be weird. Plus, he's so wrapped up with Annabel," Wendy explained.

Bebe nodded. "Craig's already my best male friend and, because of that, I know that he isn't gay friend material. Craig would never let us be friends with Tweek because he's weird and possessive like that. And, you of all people should know that Kenny isn't all that gay. I don't think he really has a certain sexuality…he's just _sexual_, in general. On account of all that, and the fact you said 'gay best friendship', you win." The blonde smiled.

Kyle wanted to hit his head on something hard. Like a wall. Women were ridiculous. "Even if I bought anything you just said, Bebe, Kenny's still married to _me_ and is, therefore, pretty damn gay!"

Bebe giggled, pinching one of Kyle's freckled cheeks between her fingers. "Whatever you say, muffin."

"Jesus, get off me!"

The TV was playing some sappy movie about a woman with a child, but no husband, who meets a nice, mysterious, yet royally fucked up man and then marries him. Kyle had been roped into watching this stupid channel with Bebe and Wendy a few other times and he was pretty sure the movies were always the same.

"Do you ever think about how things were in high school?" Wendy suddenly asked. She tucked some inky hair behind an ear before continuing. "How weird would it be if we had stayed the same?"

Bebe raised a blonde eyebrow. "Like, what? If you and Stan had ended up together?"

"Or if you had kept pursuing Kyle's sweet ass or had eventually decided to tell Craig how you felt."

Laughing and groaning, Bebe ruffled Kyle's hair. "You do have a sweet ass," she murmured. "And, Wendy, I asked that you never mention the whole Craig thing again. It's way too weird to think about." This all _was_ weird. Everyone had just kind of switched partners. Getting with the person they should've been with all along and everyone knew it deep down, which was the only reason they managed to stay a group afterwards. The blonde gasped. "Or Butters and Kenny?"

Kyle wanted to slap a hand across Bebe's mouth. _Nobody_ talked about Butters and Kenny. Nobody even mentioned it. It was an unwritten rule that everyone followed and everyone knew about. You just didn't do it. The "relationship" Butters and Kenny shared in high school was so destructive that it wasn't for only the good of the two men that it was taboo, but for everyone. It had hurt everyone.

Wendy's face flushed slightly. "Let's not talk about that," she muttered quietly. She slowly laced her fingers with Kyle's, sensing his agitation at the mention.

The room was silent for a moment before another smile crossed Bebe's face. "Cartman's weird little crush on Kyle?"

The ink haired woman tried her best to look upset. Her husband wasn't gay. But soon she burst out laughing. Wendy had a beautiful laugh, even Kyle had to admit. Especially in comparison to those tears. She wasn't a pretty crier.

"You. Are. Insane," Kyle ground out.

Bebe had tears streaming down her face and Wendy wriggled around on the bed with giggles. "He…persistently…wanted you….to suck….his….balls," she finally managed.

The redhead's eyes widened. He'd never thought of it like that. Cartman was sadistic and manipulative and probably the most creative child that ever lived. But, now, with the information Bebe had planted into Kyle's unwilling head, he had to admit, there was proof.

"Bebe….look at his face," Wendy laughed.

Kyle lifted a leg off the bed and kicked the petite woman. "Get the fuck off my bed, sicko," he warned.

She rolled off the bed with a thud and, only a moment later, her head appeared. "Pregnant woman here!"

Bebe was still trying to catch her breath on the other side of the bed, hands clutching frantically at her pregnant belly. She winced suddenly, doubling over a little bit. Wendy clambered back onto the bed, placing a knee on Kyle's groin as she fussed over her best friend. "Be, you OK?" Her small hands joined Bebe's on her bump.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Bebe promised. "Just a little pain, false alarm." Wendy's eyes were skeptical. "Seriously, Wends."

The other woman removed her knee from Kyle, still looking worriedly at her friend. Bebe was immersed back in the movie. A finger flicked Wendy's face. "That hurt, bitch," Kyle complained.

Wendy scoffed. "Not like you use it anyway."

* * *

**A/N: So, this is the end of the pre-written chapters. The next one might be awhile, or maybe not. Who knows? I've started it a little bit already. Expect some Butters and Cartman adventures and Craig coming home :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"I think you click over there-"

"Butters, shut the fuck up; I know what I'm doing," Cartman interjected.

Butters groaned, clutching Annabel closer to his chest. He didn't know exactly why Eric even needed him there. It wasn't as if the other man was listening to _anything_ Butters had to say. Because, if it were up to Butters, they'd simply call Wendy up on the phone and ask her if she was going to have a baby.

Instead, they were doing things Eric's way. And that involved looking up Wendy's credit card records online. Eric was scrolling down the page and frowning slightly. "She must've paid with cash," he muttered, clearly pissed off at the fact.

"W-well, what if she bought it at the same time as some groceries or something?" Butters supplied.

Eric shook his head and ran a hand through his thick brown hair. Butters could tell he was more upset than pissed off. "I know Wendy and she wouldn't do that. If we're right about this pregnancy thing, Wendy is, without a doubt, scared shitless right now and acting nothing like her normal self," Eric explained. Butters nodded. "When's Kenny's party?"

The other man threaded his fingers through Annabel's hair before tying it off with a pink hair-tie he found in his pocket. "I think we're s'posed to get to Kyle's around 4," Butters replied.

Standing up from the desk chair, Eric walked over to the white-board that was still propped up against the table. He checked his watch before uncapping the red expo marker. "Alright, Butters. It's currently 2:03 and 29 seconds. Here's the plan." Cartman wrote the words _Wendy is Obviously Pregnant and We Cannot Possibly Fail at Figuring it Out_ across the top of the board. "You'll go home right now with your little clone and change into some undoubtedly faggy outfit. It's a party so I'm sure you'll want to go all out. In exactly 87 minutes you will return to this house and pick me up for aforementioned party. When at the party, we will appear to know absolutely nothing about my wife's current condition. We will have to treat her no differently than usual," he paused, staring Butters down. "Can you do it, Butters?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. It shouldn't be too hard." The blonde studied Eric's illustrations on the board. Annabel was represented by a blob, it appeared, and Butters…well, if there was a slutty version of a stick figure, that's what he was. Eric was so mean to him. But, still, he knew that the brunette liked him deep down. His protective nature came out on occasion.

Eric nodded his head and popped the cap back onto his marker. Annabel kicked her legs against Butters and whined. "Alright, take the little monster and get all fagged up. I've got to shower and stuff," he explained.

"So I'll see you in approximately 87 m-minutes?" Butters verified, standing up from his chair.

Opening the door and shoving Butters and Annabel roughly out, Eric replied, "Yeah, yeah. And it's a ticking clock, fag."

* * *

Craig had just finished a really shitty day at work. Every day was shitty, because he had a really shitty job. But this day took the cake of shittiness. The dark haired man sped his car through the streets of South Park, trying to distance himself as much as possible from the dreadfully dull office building where he worked. Craig liked dull things. But he didn't like _stupid_ things.

In order to even get himself into his car to drive to work, Craig had to think about Tweek. And how he was right before they got him in to see a specialist. How if he didn't get his ass into the car and grow a pair, they wouldn't be able to pay for any medication. And Cole would probably starve to death too.

It was Craig's _job_ to take care of Tweek. It always had been and it always would be. And that, and that _alone_, was what made Craig able to sit in that stuffy cubicle all day long.

He was almost home and Tweek's music was slamming its way out of the speakers. Craig was much too lazy to change it. He hated his boyfriend's music. It was upbeat sounding, almost unbearably so, and then they sang about suicide and shit. He didn't get it. At all. But Tweek loved the band (its name had Soundtrack in it. That's all Craig knew), spewing some shit about them understanding him.

If Tweek wanted to be batshit crazy, that was fine by Craig. Well, not really. Minorly crazy was OK; he wouldn't be Tweek if he wasn't _slightly_ crazy.

_Let's get fucked up and die_, the radio sang. Craig pressed it off. Stupid, alternative junk. Parking the car in their spot outside the apartment building, he killed the engine and clambered out. Maybe Tweek would lie in bed with him for a while before going to Kenny's party.

Craig wasn't really looking forward to Kenny's party. He wasn't really in the mood for people.

The crying could be heard from the staircase. "Shit," Craig mumbled, jogging towards their apartment. _Not good, not good, not good_. Tweek couldn't handle it when Cole cried like this. He jammed his key into the door and pushed the door open, finding that it would only give about a crack of space. Craig pushed his hip against the door, hearing the distinct slide of wood on wood. Tweek had put something in front of the front door and had, no doubt, hooked the chain too. "Tweek!" he yelled, fists pounding on the door. "Tweek, open the damn door!"

Cole cried louder and Craig sighed. His dark-haired head was pressed to the door. "W-who's, ngh, th-there?" a wobbly voice asked.

"Tweek, it's me, Craig. You need to move the stuff and let me in," Craig explained, calm as always.

Nervous noises sounded from the other side of the door. "C-cole is c-crying. He w-won't stop. I-I want h-him to- ngh- stop!" the blonde muttered.

Tweek hadn't taken his pill. Craig was about 80 percent sure of that. "You didn't take your pill, did you?"

A strangled sob mixed with the baby's high pitched cries. "Y-you- ngh-moved it! I c-couldn't find it a-anywhere!" Tweek accused.

Craig groaned. Shit. He had moved it. Sometimes, he just didn't _think_. To him it made sense that the pills would go in the bathroom because that was where the medicine cabinet was. But, Tweek's mind worked in a completely different way. This was all Craig's fault. "I know, Tweek, you're right. Let me in and I'll find the pill." Praying, the man pressed his forehead against the door.

Moments later, amongst Cole's cries, Craig could hear furniture being moved and the deadbolt being unhooked. He pushed the door open immediately, taking the baby that Tweek was offering from outstretched arms. Craig pulled Cole to his chest, rubbing the baby's back comfortingly and hushing into his tiny ear. The child calmed down slightly and his fingers grasped at the starchy material of Craig's work shirt.

The man's gray gaze traveled over to Tweek, who stood pitifully in the front hall, his chest heaving with anxiety. Caramel brown eyes met Craig's for a second before darting to the ground to stare at the blonde hair that littered the floor. Pulled from a head with frantic, shaking hands.

"Your hair…" Craig murmured. He'd never seen Tweek pull _that much_ hair from his head. It was noticeable on the other man's scalp. The blonde whimpered before launching himself at Craig, his fingers overlapping their son's as they wrapped into the shirt.

"W-why'd you –ngh- move it?" Tweek asked.

Craig's eyes closed. He'd never felt like he'd failed Tweek this badly before. "I'm so sorry, Tweek," he replied.

His body was shaking slightly and his tears were staining Craig's shirt. "I-I don't want to be like this," he murmured against his boyfriend's collar bone.

Cole made his tiny, sleepy noises against Craig's chest while Tweek shook and cried and brushed his fingers over the spots of missing hair on his head. _What if there's nothing more to me? I'm just skin and bones_, the radio sang. Stupid band. Craig sighed and pressed a kiss to Cole's forehead, then Tweek's. _This_ was why he had to work a shitty job.

* * *

**A/N: That took so long! I'm so sorry :D Next update should be faster**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Stan drove Bebe's minivan towards Kyle and Kenny's house. He personally didn't know why he needed to be so early, but she insisted and he tended to listen to whatever she said, especially when Bebe was pregnant. He picked up his vibrating cell phone and held it to his ear. "Stan Marsh," he said.

"Are you here yet?" Bebe's voice asked.

"On my way," he replied.

"You have Jack, Max, and Chase? Do their clothes match? Did you remember the present?"

Before giving a slightly snarky reply to his wife, Stan glanced into the backseat to make sure he did in fact have the three boys. "No, Babe, I left one of them at home," he answered.

Bebe didn't reply and Stan assumed she hung up on him. He knew she wasn't actually mad at him, just maybe a little frustrated, so he wasn't all that bothered.

"Dad," Jack began, "why do we have to go to the party? All the other kids are babies."

Stan turned the car into a green house's driveway. Kenny and Kyle lived next door, but they couldn't park there because supposedly Kenny would figure out they were throwing a party. "Stop whining. Miko isn't a baby," he told his son. Pulling the key out of the ignition, he opened the door. The black haired man let his sons out of the back seat, choosing to carry 3-year-old Chase so the child didn't slip on the slick pavement. Stan took his phone out of the pocket and checked the time. They were 35 minutes early, hopefully Bebe would be pleased.

Certainly, Kyle would at least. Stan knew that Bebe and Wendy had their weird little infatuation with Kyle's gayness. His best friend would definitely be in need of some testosterone in his diet after a day with those two.

* * *

Exactly 87 minutes later, as he was told, Butters pulled his impossibly tiny car into Eric's spacious driveway. Annabel was asleep in the backseat, her precious blonde head lolled to the side. Butters really, really loved being a dad. All of his friends had expected him to give Annabel up when he told them about her. But he knew he wouldn't be able to, she was his life and as much as he wished he would someday find someone to love and be with, if he didn't, that'd be fine with him. He was Annabel Alexandra Stotch's daddy, and that made him the happiest man on Earth.

Moments later, Eric lumbered out of the house, raising an eyebrow at Butters' car while also rolling his eyes and groaning. He'd forgotten how small and faggy the car was. The large man was much too tall for it and always had to sit all slumped down. "I might buy you a normal sized car one day," he said in greeting, crouching down to climb in.

"I like my car," Butters replied. He smiled at his friend, who had showered and put on a nice shirt for the party. Eric was a good looking man, much less fat than when they were children and impressively tall.

Eric moved the seat as far back as it would go, which wasn't far enough. "Stop fantasizing about me and drive, fag," he ordered. "Super cute outfit, by the way," he added with a lisp, obviously making fun of Butters.

The blonde had chosen this specific outfit mainly because he knew Wendy and Bebe would tell him he looked really cute, but also because he knew it would piss Eric off. Butters had even worn a little bit of makeup, something he only did when he went out to clubs and stuff. He had been in a rebellious mood. "Thanks, Eric," he replied, feigning innocence and winning. Eric thought Butters was extremely ignorant.

Eric grumbled to himself, squirming around in the too small seat. "You remember the plan?" he asked the smaller man next to him.

"Sure do," Butters replied with a happy grin. Sometimes he felt like his friends didn't have enough time for him now that they were all married and many of them had kids of their own. The blonde was excited to see everyone all together.

* * *

Craig felt naked. Tweek was wearing his hat. The hat he wore _everywhere_. He wore it because it reminded him of when his family wasn't completely fucked up and because it smelled like coffee from being around Tweek and simply because he had always worn it.

"It itches," Tweek whined, tugging at the cords of the hat.

Following the fiasco in the front hall, Craig had found Tweek's pill and shoved one down his throat. While this, and a quick nap, had calmed his boyfriend down immensely, it did nothing to solve the hair issue.

Tweek often went about life with a bald spot here or there. But this time, there were a lot of bald spots. Craig was ashamed. He knew that his friends thought deep down that Tweek was a lost cause and he was always trying to prove them wrong. It was messed up, and the raven-haired man knew it. What other people thought about Tweek was not supposed to matter as long as _he_ loved him. And he did. Craig likened it to women always being self-conscious about being good mothers. He felt this need to show others he could take care of Tweek. Except obviously, he wasn't all that good at it.

So Tweek would wear a hat all night to cover the missing hair. And Bebe would giggle and ruffle Craig's hair patronizingly, saying how cute the couple was. And Craig would wonder why he was friends with her.

"Stop messing with it, baby. It's the only hat we have," Craig replied. He wrapped a hand around the back of Tweek's neck, massaging his thumb against the soft skin. Tweek didn't like hats; he claimed they felt like bugs crawling on his head. "You look cute."

Tweek grinned at the dark haired man, happy to see a smile in his gray eyes. He wished he had been able to find his pill so this hadn't happened. Reaching over, he took Cole out of Craig's arms, cradling the small boy to his skinny chest. The baby grasped and tugged at the cords of Craig's hat as the swung in front of his face. "I'm sorry, pumpkin," he murmured to the baby. "I'm so, so sorry." Tweek pressed his barely shaking lips to the baby's forehead.

"He's a resilient little guy," Craig informed him. "He'll be alright." He gestured towards the door with his thumb. "Can we leave now? We wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting."

Brushing past Craig with Cole, Tweek rolled his caramel eyes. "Stop pretending like you're excited," he replied. "It's just kind of weird, man."

* * *

Kenny took Nick's hand. "So, where's your sister, buddy?" he asked the child. It had been much too long a day for Kenny. He loved his kids immensely, but Kyle was unsurprisingly much better at keeping them controlled. This was probably because they saw Kyle less and were always more excited to see him. Kenny stayed home all day with the kids. Basically, he was a housewife. It was his birthday, for Christ's sake. He just wanted to go home, eat a huge ass burger off the grill, drink a beer with Kyle, and go to bed.

Nick looked up at his father and shrugged.

"Well, we'll have to find her then," Kenny continued. The pair walked around the park, looking for the little Asian girl with long hair and a baseball uniform. They found her eventually, her dark haired head pressed against blonde haired one as the two little girls whispered. When Kenny approached, Miko looked up.

"Oh, hi, Daddy. Are we leaving?" the little girl asked.

Kenny smiled at his daughter. "Sorry, baby. We've got to get home."

Miko got up and waved at her friend before skipping off after her dad and brother. "Was that one of your friends from school?" Kenny asked her.

The little Asian girl laughed, high and light, like a bird. "No, I just met her. Her name is Jennifer."

His daughter's ability to befriend anything and anyone often reminded Kenny of when he was a child. He, Stan, Kyle, and Cartman had had so many crazy adventures and had made so many friends. He missed those days, even though he had the best life now. The blonde man unlocked the car door as they approached. Miko clambered in, fixing her hat as she sat on the seat and buckled her seat belt. Nick climbed in as well, before looking expectantly up at his dad. He needed Kenny to buckle his seat belt.

"Do you want to ask Daddy to buckle you up?" Kenny asked, not expecting much.

He received a nod in response and he locked Nick in. Kenny tried very hard not to let his son's silence bother him. He was certain Nick would talk when he felt like it. Plus, after talking to his mother, Kenny had learned that _he _had been a late talker and, while Nick was not his child by blood, some of these things had to be related to environment, right? The most he could do now was stand by Kyle's side, because, while he was ready to wait it out, Kyle certainly was _not_. That wasn't really the Broflovski way.

As he drove home, Miko chattered in the backseat. Kenny just let her voice roll over him in waves, inserting commentary only when completely necessary. She talked _a lot_. Something that'd obviously come from Kyle since Kenny wasn't into mindless talking. He spoke when he needed to or when he was making a joke or flirting. And that was about it. Kenny often thought Miko might be the reason Nick didn't speak. She was so good at being his voice for him, that maybe he thought it was unnecessary.

Approaching the house, Kenny realized that Wendy's overly flashy, obnoxious sports car was parked directly in the center of the driveway. Even though it would piss Kyle off, Kenny would usually just try to fit in on the side, but Bebe had already done that. Why were they even both over? Why couldn't people respect Kenny's birthday wishes? Turning 30 was already shitty enough.

With a groan, the blonde passed his house and pulled into his neighbor's driveway. Kenny and Kyle's neighbor was old and didn't really leave her house all that much. There were already three sort-of-familiar cars in her driveway, which was unusual, but Kenny was kind of pissed and didn't care.

"Look, Daddy!" Miko exclaimed, pointing an excited finger at the smallest of the cars. "Butters is here!"

Miko loved Butters because he would always read her stories and play games with her. It had something to do with the fact that Butters was _so_ feminine, but still a dude. The little girl was considerably more comfortable around men, since she had two fathers. Of course, Miko adored Bebe and Wendy as well and the feeling was mutual; Miko loved everyone.

Kenny shook his head at his daughter. "No, Miks. That must be someone with the same car as Butters."

"Sure, Daddy," she replied with a grin as she skipped across the flooded lawn.

* * *

**A/N: Hooray for fillers! The party starts in the next chapter :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Kyle cared more than he wanted to about this party. He wasn't borderline obsessive like Bebe and Wendy. But, there was a part of him that wanted everything to be perfect. Partly because he was a Broflovski, but also because he wanted Kenny to feel appreciated. If someone were to look at Kenny as the ten year old boy who like boobs and always had his face covered, they wouldn't expect that one day he'd more or less be a housewife. And married to someone who didn't have boobs.

Kenny did everything. So Kyle wanted to do this one thing.

At the touch of a hand against his shoulder, Kyle turned. "We know you want everything to be perfect," Bebe murmured. "And it will be." Wendy nodded in agreement. "Well, assuming-" The blonde woman froze at the sound of an opening door. Moments later, two men were standing in the kitchen. "Sweetie! Thanks for making it over! I was just about to say how nice it would be if you got your little ass over here." Bebe walked over and ruffled Craig's dark hair.

Craig's face scrunched up in annoyance and he flipped his friend off. "We're not late," he pointed out. "Everyone else was just freakishly early."

"It's my fault," Tweek mumbled from Craig's side.

"No, it's not," the dark haired man replied sharply.

Kyle, Bebe, and Wendy stared at the couple in front of them. They didn't often fight or disagree, so it was confusing to see the pair so on edge with each other. Almost as strange as it was for Craig to be hatless. Its current position on Tweek's head was unprecedented, but they chose not to comment. Craig looked particularly volatile.

"Kenny's probably too poor to have any good alcohol." From the kitchen, the group could hear Cartman's inevitable entrance. In normal circumstances, they would fight to keep him out, but tensions were thick and he'd probably cure that.

"Kenny's married to a lawyer, fat ass," Kyle sounded back.

Cartman appeared in the room seconds later, followed by Stan and Butters. "I'm not fat; I'm big-boned," Stan mimicked, causing his best friend to laugh.

Reading the large man's expression, and then disregarding the warning it was sending, Craig continued, "Screw you guys, I'm going home."

Surrounded by laughter (even _Butters_ was giggling, but trying and failing to hide it behind a hand), Eric Cartman was pissed off. Despite the years he had gained, Cartman was much the same person as he had been as a child. He needed to get the attention of himself. And fast. Misleadingly warm brown eyes scanned the room for material.

Aha!

Bebe's ass looked _massive_. Eric was aware that she was pregnant. And that Wendy was possibly pregnant and would therefore be sensitive to anything he said regarding pregnancy. But, the laughter in the room was stifling so he did it anyway. "Whoa, got a wide load there, Bebe?"

Cue silence. Bebe's jaw dropped. Followed by Wendy's, Kyle's, and Stan's. And Craig's finger. "Aw, seriously, man?" Stan asked. "She's fucking pregnant!"

Bebe arched her back, trying to look at her butt. "And my butt is _not_ all that big!"

"Good one, fucktard. Making fun of pregnant people," Craig scoffed.

Unsurprisingly, Cartman cared very little about what they had to say. The moment the words left his lips, the man had directed his eyes at Wendy. Waiting for her reaction. The barest shake of a head. _I'm so disappointed with you_.

Before Wendy could gather her anger and let her husband have it, Max and Zane ran into the room. "Mommy!" the older of the two said. "We were watching the window like you told us to and Miko is running over here right now!"

"I saw," Zane added, a slight lisp coloring his words.

Bebe smiled. "Did you, baby?" She picked up the blonde child. Zane cringed slightly as his mother placed a kiss on his cheek.

"If this is a surprise party, we'd better hide or Kenny won't be very surprised," Butters pointed out.

Everyone turned to stare at Kyle. The redhead wanted to scream at himself. He hadn't even thought about where they would hide. So much for everything being perfect. "We'll just flip off all the lights and stay in here," Kyle decided. "It'll confuse him enough."

Stan left the kitchen to collect Jack, Chase, and Annabel, turning off the lights as he went. He'd just barely made it back into the kitchen when the handle on the front door was turned. The occupants of the kitchen hushed.

The door creaked open, followed by a thud. "Motherfucker! Why are all the goddamn lights off?"

"Daddy, did you fall? Why are all the lights off?" a little voice asked.

Kenny didn't sound very pleased. "You ask why all the lights are off, Miko? Well it probably has something in common with my fucking broken ankle. Your dad most likely laid in bed all day and watched those gay house makeover TV shows." Footsteps hit the floor. "Nick, why don't you go upstairs and get him? Miks and I will fire up the grill." Nick could be heard climbing the stairs as Miko and Kenny got closer to the kitchen. "You know, cutie, I was kind of expecting your dad to make dinner or something. I mean it's my birthday! What the fuck's up with that?" Kenny's right hand flipped up the light switch.

"Surprise!" The eight adults and five children in the kitchen smiled at Kenny.

"Christ!" The blonde shouted, taking a step back in shock. "I haven't died in a while, are you all trying to kill me or something?"

Kyle approached his husband, wrapping his pale arms around Kenny's waist. "Are you surprised?"

Kenny widened his eyes and shook his head. "Yes! I think my heart stop fucking beating for a second. Jesus, what are you all _on_?" Kyle shut him up with a kiss. He released the blonde from his grasp, not wanting to hog the "birthday boy".

Glancing around the room, Kenny noticed that all his friends were present. Stan and Bebe, Fatass and Wendy, Craig and Tweek, Butters. "Kyle," he said, causing his redhead to turn, "I'm really surprised. Thank you."

Kyle smiled, bearing two straight rows of perfectly white teeth. "That doesn't make up for your previous comment about my television preferences," he responded. "You'll undoubtedly be paying for that later."

"I'll hold you to that," Kenny grinned at Kyle's back. Or ass.

Cartman approached Kenny, beer in hand. Apparently, he had settled for cheap alcohol, or he had realized that Kyle and Kenny were not particularly poor. "Happy Birthday, po' boy. I'm going to watch the game so I don't have to watch you flirt with the Jewfag." Stan, Craig, and Tweek followed him out of the kitchen.

Kenny decided to be a gentleman and say hello to the ladies. And Butters. The blonde took a seat with Wendy and Bebe at the table. "Thanks for taking up the whole driveway," he said sarcastically.

"Our pleasure," Wendy smirked. It melted away to leave a smile. "But, Happy Birthday." She patted Kenny on the arm.

Turning his attention to the other woman, Kenny realized how pregnant Bebe was. "Holding in there?"

Bebe nodded, running a hand over her tummy. "Somewhat," she smiled.

"It looks like the newest little Marsh devil could share his birthday with the awesomeness that is Kenny McCormick," the man laughed.

Wendy's dark eyebrows shot up beneath her bangs at Kenny's words, but it went unnoticed by him. Bebe laughed along at the comment, although the action never reached her brown eyes.

Kenny was too occupied to noticed either of these things because his attention was held by the conversation between Kyle and Butters happening at the counter. Butters Stotch could still make Kenny's heart skip a beat. That was cheesy and terribly gay, but completely true. There was something about him that was so _girly_ and it made Kenny's body act like this was 10th grade history class again and Garrison was droning on about the dynamics of the American Idol judges and he was creepily staring Butters down from across the room.

Kyle was fantastic, and Kenny would never want to trade what they had for anything in the world. He was hot and made money and got all red in the face when he was angry and took care of him. Everything Kenny loved. Kyle had given him a family; he had repaired him when he was fucked up beyond measure after high school. He put up with all his oddities and loved him seemingly unconditionally. Kenny loved Kyle more than anything.

But, Butters….Butters was like a pixie stick. A quick little rush to your brain that leaves you wanting more. But you know once you start, you won't be able to stop. Almost a little too sweet to truly want. Addiction was always a risk. If Kyle was a candy, he'd be a chocolate. A really good chocolate. The kind you wish you could hold in your mouth forever, just letting it dissolve on your tongue. Savory, rich and smooth and sweet, but a little bitter. Complex in nature, something you really wanted to figure out.

When it was laid out like that, it made sense why Kenny ended up with Kyle. Staring at the two men, interacting at the counter, only made it more apparent. Kenny wasn't responsible and he wasn't very smart. He _needed_ Kyle. Plain and simple. Sometimes, he just _wanted_ Butters.

Standing up from his chair, Kenny walked over to the blonde and the redhead. He slung a long arm casually across the shoulders of both men. "My two favorite people!" Kenny crowed. "So what's on the agenda for tonight?"

Butters blushed slightly at Kenny's touch and looked at Kyle for an answer.

"Go sit and watch the game," Kyle told his husband. "This is your day, or whatever. Enjoy it."

Kyle nodded with approval as Kenny strolled off towards the living room. He was happy. Kenny had been surprised; Cartman hadn't caused any _major_ issues. So far, so good.

* * *

**A/N: So Chapter 8 will be forever remembered as the overdue, awkward, short, just really awkward chapter. But, I needed to get it out. Good shit will happen in the next chapter and I've had part of this written since like Chapter 3 so it feels nice to finally use it. Adios! **

**So, this was ready 3 days ago, but due to the fact that ff sucks. You get it now :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm baaaaack :) Well, for now I am. But, I'm feeling inspired with this fic again, so maybe I'll be able to finish it. Heads up, lots of colorful language in this chapter. What can I say, it's South Park. Enjoy, friends!**

* * *

Chapter 9

"We should open presents," Bebe grinned, pushing herself up from her chair. The blonde went to stand behind Kyle and Butters, who were diligently making the salad.

"According to our agenda," her best friend began, "presents come after dinner."

Bebe laughed at Wendy, showing two rows of perfectly straight teeth. "But Kenny is going to _love_ what we got him!" She ran her fingers through Kyle's hair, as if this would make him speak up against Wendy.

The redhead turned and sighed with defeat. "I honestly do not care what we do. This party is completely out of my control, and I doubt I ever really controlled it in the first place," Kyle said.

Bebe clapped her hands, an even larger grin spreading across her face. "Presents it is, bitches!" She skipped out of the room, followed by a sulking Wendy.

"Gee, Bebe must've gotten Kenny a really cool present," Butters noted.

Kyle grinned at Butters. All things considered, their relationship should've been a strained one; but Butters was truly impossible to dislike. "I guess we'll see," he replied.

The two men entered the living room to find Bebe sitting on Stan's lap, her fingers threaded into his hair. "Guess what, handsome?"

"What?" Stan asked, a light blush covering his cheeks. Kyle smirked.

Bebe smiled and the twirled a curl carelessly around her finger. She really was beautiful. Not in the drastic, sharp way Wendy was. Her beauty was all soft and warm, curves and curls and smiles. "Kenny's going to open presents now."

"You remembered ours, right?" Wendy asked, making eye contact with her husband.

Eric's mouth stayed poised open with his beer bottle halfway to his mouth. A guilty look spread across his face.

The dark haired woman's head shook the tiniest bit before she walked briskly over to her husband. In moments, the beer bottle was out of his hand and placed on the table and he was being pulled after her in the direction of the kitchen.

An awkward silence filled that living room, since all the occupants knew a Wendy vs. Cartman throw down was about to occur. Kyle ground his teeth and pinched his nose and more or less heaved Bebe off Stan's lap to follow the other couple. "Seriously, Bebe, seriously?" the redhead muttered.

Bebe huffed. "This is _so _not my fault, Kyle."

* * *

"Eric, I can honestly not believe you forgot the goddamn present! This is a surprise party for your best friend's _birthday_ and it never crossed your mind to grab a fucking _present_?" Wendy was fuming. Figurative smoke was billowing from her beautiful ears. Eric knew he was in trouble.

"Looking over the fact that you could've brought the present this morning, but you were too busy being so fucking secretive, whatever. I'll go get it right now," Eric replied.

Wendy's face was slowly turning a weird shade of red. She stared at the man in front of her, wondering how he managed to be so infuriating. "Cartman!" she exploded. The woman hadn't called him that in years. It felt childish and strange on her tongue. "That isn't how the world works! Everything can't just be fixed that easily!"

Eric nodded his head. "Sure, but this can. And heads up, Testabitch, I know that this isn't the only thing bothering you." He turned on his heel, ready to stomp out of the kitchen.

His wife ran a lightly shaking hand beneath her eye, picking up a traitorous tear and some makeup. "Yes it is," she answered stonily.

He had been hoping she would crack, start crying, tell him she was pregnant, and, not only would his scheme be a success, but also, he'd know what was up with her. Before he could pushing open the swinging kitchen door, Kyle and Bebe came barreling in.

"Wends," Bebe started, her hand placed a top her bump, "you need to tell him."

"Tell me what?" Eric turned back around to look at his wife, who was glaring daggers at her best friend.

Wendy's dark gaze dropped to her shoes. "It's nothing, Eric. Just go pick up the gift."

"Wendy, if you don't tell him, I will. This isn't something you should hide." Kyle nodded his head slowly along with Bebe's words. He didn't really understand the big deal in the first place. Cartman and Wendy were married; kids were the next rung of the ladder. Wendy should be wanting kids.

The dark haired woman's eyes shot up. She looked at the blonde with anger and hurt, no trace of friendliness. "Like you're one to talk, Bebe," Wendy spat.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Wendy's voice shook slightly with the words, which caused her to seem slightly crazy. "And I am tired of being the keeper."

Bebe's eyes fluttered closed for a second. She did know what Wendy was talking about. The worst thing she had ever done in her life. "Wendy, stop."

Eric glanced around the room nervously. He hadn't meant to start anything this big and he was sure he'd be to blame later. The large man took a couple hesitant steps toward his wife, reaching a hand out to wrap around her wrist. Wendy snapped her arm away. "No. I'm tired of secrets and everyone just skirting around things. I'm tired of big, huge, fucking _elephants_ filling the room."

This was nuts. Kyle had no idea what this issue between Wendy and Bebe was, but he definitely knew that it didn't need to be fleshed out in his kitchen. He had to fix this somehow. "Wendy's pregnant!" the redhead blurted. Immediately he regretted it. Cartman and Bebe both sported looks of shock and Wendy look even more insane than previously.

"Babe," Eric murmured as he tried to reach out to his wife again.

"Hey, Kyle," Wendy grinned, "have you ever noticed how alike Stan and Craig look?" A weird, mean little laugh left her mouth.

"Please," Bebe whispered. "You're my best friend in the world, Wendy."

Kyle, unsure of how to respond to this question and noticing the silent tears streaming down Bebe's cheeks, nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Wendy stalked over to Kyle, looking like some sort of dangerous super model. "Well, get this," she said. "Jack is not Stan's."

The redhead's eyebrows immediately shot up as he looked between the two women. Bebe looked like she was about to collapse. "He's…"

"The kid is Craig's! And I've known that for like 8 years now and never told a soul. Of course, some people like to just go around spilling secrets left and right—oh. Hey, Stan."

The kitchen door swung back and forth on its hinge. The only sound in a now silent kitchen. "Bebe," Stan whispered with tears forming in his clear eyes.

Bebe slid down the wall until the floor, sobbing. Wendy stood center stage in this disaster, looking meaner than she ever had in her life. Eric Cartman was afraid of his wife for the first time he could remember. The door opened again for Craig and Tweek. "Is e-everything—ack—OK in here? We heard screaming?"

"Oh, you're just in time," Wendy sneered.

Frustrated and done with _whatever_ this melt-down was, Eric grabbed the woman and pulled her to his chest. "You stop this, now," he whispered in her ear. He felt her body go limp against him, relaxed. "I don't know what the fuck this is, but stop it. You're ruining people's lives here." Everyone hated Eric, but he did not want people hating Wendy. She was better than that. He pressed a kiss to her hair.

Stan was shaking, his mouth opening and closing like a goddamn fish. Kyle knew that this was not good. An outburst was coming. "Everyone needs to relax right fucking now," Kyle shouted. "This is Kenny's goddamn day and he deserves the best of all of us. You all ruined his party." The man left the kitchen.

"Can someone tell me what is going on?" Craig asked, flipping off the general population.

Bebe looked up at her friend, a best friend, a man she had once that she loved. She swiped a hand at her tears. He husband still stood now slightly panting above her. "Jack is yours," she whispered.

Craig stared at Bebe. He did not fully understand what she was saying, all he knew was that he wished he had his hat on. He felt much too naked at the moment. The dark haired man whipped his beloved chullo of Tweek's head before thinking and jammed it on to his own. Everyone's eyes were now trained on the blonde's hair.

"Oh, Tweek," Bebe murmured.

"Shit," Stan whispered.

Craig looked at his shoes while he flipped the room off for a second time. "Stop fucking staring at him for Christ's sake," he muttered.

Wendy randomly burst into tears and tore herself out of her husband grasp. She walked of kitchen with her signature Wendy Testaburger walk. Slightly wobbling every other step or so.

Bebe glanced at her husband. She had always felt so awful about doing this to him. It wasn't right. He loved her and she loved him. "Stan?"

"What?" he grunted, barely looking at his wife.

"My water just broke."

* * *

**A/N: Duh duh duhhhh**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm back! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I really think I'm going to finish this up! Next week is finals, which means I'm looking to do everything except study :) I'd love some feedback on this!**

* * *

Chapter 10

Stan couldn't really process anything that was going on around him. Bebe's back arched as a contraction rippled through her. This was second nature to Stan now; he'd been through it 4 times already. Something in the back of his mind whispered, "She's having a baby, asshole. Do something."

But he stared down at his wife and did not recognize her. He loved her. Or at least, he had. This morning and the day before and for years before that. There was a pit in his stomach, an emptiness. Everything he ever knew was a lie. Stan briefly shook his head and left the room.

The kitchen was silent except for Bebe's harsh breathing. She'd never been so scared in her life. Not the first time she gave birth, 24 hours of labor and the guilt that the man next to her was not the child of this baby. Or even the fourth time, when she had gone into labor in the middle of the super market. She _needed_ Stan.

Her brown gaze flitted across the room, trying to figure out who was going to help her. Cartman had chased off after Wendy and Craig had, at some point, slipped from the room unnoticed. Bebe and Tweek were the only people left in the kitchen.

Tweek looked calmer than he usually did. His mouth moved quickly, but silently. Bebe couldn't make out what he was saying. Suddenly, the tiny man was hoisting Bebe up by the waist. "Tweek…" she started.

"What you did, Bebe," Tweek interrupted, speaking clearer and more precisely than Bebe can ever remember, "was terrible. If you had ever loved Craig, or Stan, you wouldn't have done it."

Silent tears dripped down the blonde's face. She did love them both. Desperately. She knew it. She did what she did because she was scared. She wanted to be with Stan, not Craig, and she hadn't wanted to ruin Craig's life either. The man was so happy now, with Tweek and sweet, little Cole. "I don't need your help." Bebe wrestled weakly against Tweek's grasp. She did need it.

"Yes, you do," he sighed.

Once in the car, Bebe was too distracted by contractions to notice how badly Tweek's hands shook upon the steering wheel. Bebe was Craig's friend and that was Tweek's rationale for helping her. If Craig could, he would. Tweek hoped Craig didn't notice his absence and get too freaked out.

Bebe groaned. "We're almost-_ngh_- there Bebe."

* * *

The front door slammed four times while Kyle was rounding up the kids for dinner. He ignored all of them. The redhead was on a mission. By the time all seven kids were present and accounted for, the kitchen was empty. Kyle wiped up a random wet spot on the floor near the fridge and heated up the baked Mac and Cheese he had prepared earlier that day.

All the kids ate happily. Kyle jostled baby Cole up and down slowly; he had been unable to find Craig or Tweek, which was not all that surprising considering what had just happened. He assumed they accounted for one of the slammed doors. Kyle considered the baby in his arms, whose eyelids were growing heavy with sleep. He thought that maybe he and Kenny would adopt another baby someday. Kenny was such a good dad.

Speaking of Kenny, the man was also nowhere to be found. Kyle plopped down in a chair, thinking that this had to be the worst birthday ever. The only people Kyle could find were Cartman, who was sitting against the wall opposite the bathroom and begging his wife to come out, and Butters, who was currently trying to figure out where the fuck everyone had gone.

Kyle was deciding whether or not to serve the kids cake when he heard the door open and Kenny reappeared, Stan trailing behind him looking devastated. "Hey, sweet potato," Kenny smiled slightly. It was a silly nickname from when they first started dating and Kyle hated it so much. The blond man pressed a kiss where his forehead met his hair.

"Where's Bebe?" Stan asked. He looked disoriented and confused. His face tear stained and pale.

Kyle shook his head. "I don't know. A bunch of people left. Only Butters, Cartman, and Wendy are still here."

"But, where's Bebe?"

Kenny pushed Stan down into a chair and told the kids to scatter, promising cake soon. "She must've left, dude. Gone home or something."

"No," Stan murmured. "I think I walked away from her. She told me she was having the baby and I just left." The dark haired man was obviously in shock and Kyle didn't know what to make of this story. Bebe had obviously been very distressed, so he supposed it was possible.

The ginger extracted his cell phone from his pocket, scrolling through contacts until he found "Bebe Marsh". He held the phone to his ear and it rang all the way through to voicemail. Bebe's cheery, warm voice told him she'd call back later. As a second thought, Kyle called "Craig Tucker" just in case, not mentioning this to Stan. Craig didn't answer either. "I don't know where she is, man," Kyle said.

Stan stood. "Well, we have to find her! She's having a baby for Christ's sake."

Kyle looked at Stan, the only thought running through his head being that Stan should not be driving. He shot Kenny a pointed look, telling him to take the man looking for his wife. Kenny leaned forward and kissed Kyle's lips. "We'll be back soon," he whispered.

* * *

Tweek Tweak was not cut out to help a woman birth a child. And that was a cold hard fact. The calm exterior he had somehow worn while getting Bebe out of the house and driving to the hospital had long worn off. He flitted nervously around the birthing room, making the hospital staff less than happy.

"Is this your husband?" They'd asked Bebe skeptically earlier. She had shook her head in response, but stated Tweek was all she had for the time being.

The doctor was checking between Bebe's legs. The only place Tweek had not yet venture in the small room. That was way too much pressure. "I'd say you're about ready to push," he stated.

Bebe looked helplessly at him. "My husband isn't here," she said quietly.

The doctor shrugged. "Not too much we can do about that, Mrs. Marsh."

"B-bebe, I really –_ack_- don't think St-Stan is coming," Tweek giggled nervously. He wished Stan would come so he could leave and find his Craig. He was worried about him. The dark haired man hadn't even called him yet. Tweek also hoped Kyle or someone was watching Cole.

Fresh tears trailed down Bebe's already tear stained face. "Do I deserve this?" she asked the strange, blond man before her. She reached up to pull his hand out of his hair. More bald spots would not do him any good.

"That's way too much pressure to answer."

"Will you help me? You just have to hold my hand," Bebe pleaded.

For a moment, Tweek's mind filled with the unwanted image of Craig, his Craig, sliding in and out of Bebe. He didn't like this picture. Craig was his. Or rather, he was Craig's. Or something like that. It seemed impossible to grasp that Craig had done _that _with Bebe. That they had made a baby. Tweek thought of Cole and how much he loved him. A little perfect piece of Craig.

Tweek wondered if that was how Bebe thought of Jack. Her own little perfect piece of Craig. Who wouldn't want one of those? Suddenly, Tweek was nodding, agreeing to help the sad, sad girl in front of him.

Bebe cried and cried. "Thank you."

Tweek held her hand the whole time, just like Bebe asked, but he kept his eyes shut tight. Not wanting to see anything and wishing he could cover his ears as well. Bebe's groans and screams seemed to echo in the tiny room.

"We're crowing," the doctor said, at one point. Tweek slightly remembered having skimmed over a chapter on childbirth in preparation for Cole, not that it applied to him and Craig. Bebe was close to the end.

"Y-you can-_ngh_-do it, Bebe," Tweek ground out, mostly just wanting this whole thing to be over.

Bebe screamed, her fingernails digging themselves into his poor little hand, and the screams of a baby filled the room. Tweek let his eyes slowly open. The baby looked disgusting. So dirty.

He extracted his hand from Bebe's grasp, flexing it a few times in order to get the feeling back into it. She smiled at him, even more tears falling on her cheeks. Tweek was glad he was gay. Tears were too much pressure and Craig rarely cried.

The doctor handed Bebe the baby. The baby now looked like Cole did when Tweek first saw him. Clean, but red as a tomato. "It's a girl. My baby girl," Bebe murmured.

When she looked up, Stan was standing in the middle of the room. "I missed it," her husband whispered, eyes on the floor.

"Stan," Bebe sighed. She had never been happier in her life to see him. She doubted she was forgiven at all, but the fact that this baby, a baby that was his and always would be, meant so much to him made her weep with relief.

The man walked toward the bed slowly, as if he wasn't sure whether he really wanted to. Bebe passed his daughter to him and his face melted. She was perfect in every single way possible. He was certain. "Can we call her Kate?" he wondered aloud. It was a name he had picked, embarrassingly so, for his future daughter when he was a kid. He knew Bebe thought he liked that they only had boys, but really he had always wanted a daughter.

The blonde woman nodded. "Kate Tweek Marsh. Because Tweek was there for me when I didn't deserve anyone."

Tweek sneaked out of the room, quietly. He wanted to find Craig as soon as possible.

Tentatively, Stan climbed into the bed with his wife and daughter. "I don't know how I feel," he mumbled. "Kenny says I'm in shock. Everything's not OK."

Bebe nodded. "I know." But for now, they had a beautiful, perfect baby daughter, who deserved to have two parents peering at her with looks so filled with love they couldn't possibly hold anything else.

* * *

Soon after, 3 dark haired boys and a blond came barreling into the room. Excited but skeptical of this "sister" they now had.

They sat on the edge of the bed, in awe of this little baby that Stan was certain would have each and every one of them wrapped around her finger in no time. Jack held her, a smile breaking out across his face.

Bebe smiled back, but her heart was breaking. Now that the secret was out, Jack barely looked like Stan at all. It scared her that they'd have to tell him. Her sweet, oldest boy.

It seemed like years ago when she and Stan were fooling around in bed. A perfect life didn't seem so perfect when it was built upon lies. Bebe watched as Stan ruffled Jack's hair, made a joke, and took the baby from his arms.

Craig was Jack's father, but Stan was Jack's dad. Bebe hoped with all her heart that this could always be true.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Babe," Eric began, "if we leave soon, we could stop for ice cream on the way home." This was a last ditch effort. Wendy had a weakness for ice cream and he had tried everything else. He prayed it would work.

A few moments passed. The door opened a crack. "We have to go to Baskin Robbins, though," Wendy replied. Baskin Robbins was farther and more expensive. Usually Eric would've whined, but he had been expecting this. Wendy emerged from the bathroom. She had tried to cover the fact that she had been crying, but Eric knew her better than anyone else on Earth and he had heard her quiet sobs through the door as he sat in the hallway. He had never felt so helpless in his life.

Eric pulled his beautiful wife into his beefy arms. "I love you, Wendy," he muttered into her pitch colored hair.

She nodded against his shoulder. It had been a long, mostly terrible day. Wendy wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Eric on the bed, fall asleep, and sleep well into the next day. Fuck the 5 o'clock alarm.

At the ice cream shop, Wendy sat and devoured not only her ice cream, but most of Eric's as well. She was surprised that he let this happen with only a long look. To which she replied, "I'm eating for two now, fat ass."

"I like that," Eric smiled. He stood up, grabbing her arm. "We're leaving."

Wendy looked longingly at the many tubs of ice cream, but eventually followed her husband out the door and into the car. Eric always drove much too fast. His lead foot had yet to get him into trouble, but Wendy was certain that it would happen sooner rather than later. They arrived at their small home within minutes, between Eric's driving and the lack of other cars on the road.

"Don't move," Eric ordered, after he had killed the engine in their driveway. He got out of his seat, walking around to Wendy's side and opening the door.

She scoffed, moving to get out of the car. "I can open my own door, Eric." However, the man moved his wide frame farther into the car door, making it impossible for her to exit. He placed a hand on her thigh at the top of her skirt. Slowly, Eric moved this hand up until it was bordering on inappropriateness. Wendy's breath hitched in her throat. His other hand reached up to cup her face; thumb dragging across her cheek in a tantalizingly slow manner. Eric brought his face closer and closer until their noses brushed and Wendy _couldn't _ breathe and she was instantly reminded of why she loved Eric Cartman so much. It was because even now, after almost 3 years, he could still make her feel like this.

Their lips met and it was electric, as it always would be. Wendy swore nothing ever would feel close to this good. Eric pulled her closer to him until she was barely even on the seat, her legs wrapping around his hips. His hands grasped at the fabric covering her back with need and her fingers slid their way through his messy auburn hair.

They eventually ended up in bed. Wendy was exhausted and breathless and high, just like she always was after sex. Eric lay next to her, an arm thrown casually across her body. He rolled over and kneeled by her feet. He was uncharacteristically careful as he rolled up the hem of her shirt, which they had been too bothered to take off beforehand. Wendy tried to be still as possible as her husband's fingers traced their way across the still very flat plane of her stomach. She wondered what it would be like in 3 months, 6 months, 8 months. And she was sure he was wondering the same things. Then, with more grace than she thought Eric possessed, he placed his lips against her skin, just below her belly button. Wendy sighed and it shuddered through her.

"There is nothing on Earth I want more than this baby," Eric told her. And she knew he was not lying. A single traitorous tear fell when she found that she agreed.

* * *

When Kenny finally made it home from the hospital and the train wreck that was the Marsh family, it was late. The house was dark and Kenny's head was filled with the thought of another baby that would maybe join their family. He and Kyle had figured they had everything they needed. One boy, one girl. One loud and bossy like Kyle and one quiet and aware like Kenny. But, now that Nick was leaving the baby stage, Kenny couldn't help but long for another. Being a Dad was the one thing he'd found he was truly good at.

These were thoughts for tomorrow, though. It had been a long fucking day and Kenny's….most interesting birthday, to say the least. He was damn tired and just wanted to curl up with Kyle and pass out. They'd sleep until noon the next day. Assuming Miko didn't wake them up.

When Kenny reached the top of the stairs, he noticed the door of the room to his right was open, even though it was way too late for Nick to still be up. As he drew closer, he noticed that Kyle was kneeled next to their son's bed. The redhead's fingers trailed lightly along Nick's cheek. Kenny knew without even being able to see his husband's face that Kyle was struggling to hold back tears. "We love you so, so much, Nicholas," Kyle whispered, speaking for both himself and Kenny.

Kenny tried to turn away quietly, wanting to let Kyle have his moment with the little boy, but Kyle looked up and noticed him. The freckled man smiled suddenly and it overtook his face. Kenny never knew what to do when his husband looked at him like that, like the world and planets and _everything_ revolved around Kenny. The blond simply smiled back.

After pressing a long kiss to Nick's forehead, Kyle joined Kenny in the doorway. He wrapped his thin arms around the taller man's middle, pressing his cheek into his chest. "Thing's are going to get better," Kyle murmured.

If there was one thing Kenny knew, it was that Kyle was _very_ rarely wrong. "Damn straight they are! Besides, at least we aren't like our friends. We're much better put together than them," he rationalized. His lips met Kyle's in a quick kiss.

"I want another baby!" Kyle blurted as Kenny pulled away. He immediately looked at the ground, embarrassed. He just couldn't shake the way he had felt as he held Cole earlier.

Kenny lifted Kyle's chin with his fingers. He smiled. "Me too, sweet potato."

Kyle grinned even larger than earlier and Kenny was struck by just how radiant his husband was. This feeling grew was Kyle hopped up and swung his legs around Kenny's waist. "Someone made a snotty comment earlier about HGTV that they have not been punished for yet," he whispered. Kisses were trailed down Kenny's neck.

Struggling to hold back a groan, the blond carried Kyle into their bedroom where he got the only thing he had really needed for his birthday.

* * *

Butters drove home that night late. He had waited for someone to pick up Cole before he left. Tweek came eventually and the poor guy looked so bent out of shape that Butters wanted to tell him they should wait for Craig to come back first. However, he wasn't exactly sure Craig was coming back so he passed the snoring baby over to his father.

He wasn't exactly sure why he had lingered so long. After the party had basically broken up, he could've just taken Annabel and left. Kyle had looked so sad though and Butters had been worried about Wendy and Stan and everyone. So he'd stayed. He helped Kyle clean up and then waited for everyone to be picked up. Kenny came home after dropping Stan off and took the little Marshes over to see their new sister. After Tweek left, Butters found his daughter passed out on the basement floor. It was _way_ past her bedtime.

Butters had always thought his friends had it all. They were married, had kids. And they were happy, or so he had assumed. The blond man had learned something that day; everything was not what it seemed. None of his friends were as happy or as put together as he had thought. He was certain that all his friends were with the person they were meant to be with, and things still went wrong. He couldn't imagine what sort of disasters happened when someone was with the wrong person. And, for this reason, Butters could wait.

No matter how lonely or sad he got, he would just think of the person out there that was meant for him. The way Craig was meant for Tweek or Kyle was meant for Kenny. Annabel yawned, breaking Butters from his thoughts. His daughter would always be his and at least he had that.

At the door of his apartment, Butters fished around in his satchel ("Yeah, that's a purse," Eric had groaned) for the keys, balancing Annabel on a hip while he looked. His fingers caught on to a slip of paper and he pulled it out, not knowing what it was from. The blond glanced at it and frowned. It was a phone number with the name "Owen" written under it. It must've been from that guy at the supermarket that was hitting on Butters the other day.

Butters smiled and slipped the number into his back pocket. He could wait, but nobody ever said speeding the process along was bad.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear from you :))**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

When Craig had barreled his way out of Broflovski's house, he hadn't been thinking clearly. Or at all really. His mind hadn't really processed what had just occurred. The only thing on his mind was he couldn't stay in that room or that house.

Somehow, he ended up at Stark's Pond. Craig sat a ways away from the water, watching it rustle in the late winter breeze. He threw a rock into the water and it thudded. He had a son. Another son. He threw another rock, smaller this time. Bebe was such a fucking bitch. Like what the fuck? Not telling him she'd had his son and knew it! Craig stood up and sent a whole handful of rocks flying into the still partially frozen pond.

Besides being gay and having a caffeine addict boyfriend, Craig liked to consider himself normal. Immune to the crazy, retarded shit that was South Park, Colorado. Yes, he'd admit he had his moments. Peru was still a sore topic, but for the most part, Craig was one of the normal ones and he prided himself on that fact.

Normal people did not go seven years not noticing that their friends' son was actually theirs.

What in the fucking hell was he going to do? Did he like have some sort of obligation to the kid now? Sure, he liked Jack, just as much as he liked any kid who wasn't Cole. But he wasn't exactly jonesing to raise him. The kid had a dad. And Stan Marsh was a good one at that.

Craig had his own family and his own things to deal with. Cole and Tweek were a full time job, on top of his actual job. Tweek.

Tweek would hate him. No, he wouldn't; he was too paranoid to hate people that way Craig did. But he'd be confused. And alone. In his quest to vacate the BrofCormick residence, he'd completely forgotten about Tweek and Cole. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck it all to hell.

Normally, Craig didn't really partake in physical activities. He was naturally pretty trim and Tweek didn't eat nearly enough to necessitate exercise; but, Craig doubted anyone had ever moved faster than he did at the thought of his Tweek dealing with this fucking bullshit situation all by himself. He skidded to a stop in front of the house that wouldprobably give him bad feelings forever. The windows were dark, all cars were gone, Craig lifted a finger at the front door and scowled. Tweek must've made it home.

Craig's breath was coming out ragged and labored by the time he reached their building. He crossed his fingers behind his back in the hope that Tweek had not barricaded himself inside again and that no more hair had been lost. However, Craig assumed things might be a lot worse than that. What he didn't expect, by any means, was to walk in the door and find Tweek sitting on the couch, feeding Cole. Craig stood near the couch, confused and tired. He stared at Tweek's patchy head, blaming himself, and then stared at Cole, sucking the last of the bottle contentedly.

Tweek draped Cole over his shoulder and stood, patting the baby on the back as he walked him to his room. He ignored Craig and Craig remained rooted in the spot. He was at a loss. Unsure of how to talk about this to Tweek, but wanting to so very badly. Tweek was back seconds later, shaking slightly without the warmth of Cole to calm him. The blond stood in front of his taller boyfriend and peered up.

Most people didn't know what Craig got out of his relationship with Tweek. He certainly wasn't one of those people who got off on helping others. He didn't even get off on the fact that he helped Tweek, that was just his job, responsibility. Because for whatever reason, he loved the little guy. Craig was sure as shit that he was the only person in the world who had ever seen the side of Tweek that helped _him_.

"Baby," Tweek whispered, tugging Craig's hat off of his dark haired head. He reached up and brushed Craig's cheek with his knuckles before cupping his hand around the back of Craig's neck. Craig didn't know what this was or what it meant, but gratefulness invaded his body in seconds. He more or less collapsed into the arms of his much shorter boyfriend. Trying and trying and trying not to cry, but failing. Because, fuck, Tweek was just so perfect.

Craig choked on his words. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered, until Tweek's hushing drowned it out. "I didn't mean to."

Tweek maneuvered Craig into their bed at some point and surrounded him in every way possible. "Of course you didn't, sweetheart." And, Craig would usually scoff at this name, but he knew domesticity had made him soft and if he could only be one thing in the world, it'd be whatever Tweek wanted.

"Be mad," Craig ordered. "I'm a fucking retard. I have a kid with _someone else_."

Tweek shook his head. "It was b-before us. Right? And, you didn't know, Craig."

There really wasn't a "before us" in Craig's mind because even though he'd never had the balls to tell Tweek, it was hard for him to remember a time when he did not consider Tweek his and, to some extent, himself Tweek's. Even if he did procreate with Bebe. He nodded though because he just wanted his smart, level-headed for once boyfriend to hold him and kiss his face and baby him. They could worry about complexities in the morning. "I thought you would hate me," Craig murmured into the pillow.

"Impossible," Tweek replied, kissing Craig's ear.

Craig stopped crying and they cuddled, to wired or confused or content to sleep. "We should get married," Craig stated definitively, drowsily. "I want you to be mine and I want everyone to know it."

Tweek smiled into Craig's smooth, dark hair. "Y-yeah, OK."

* * *

Bebe knew what she did was terrible. She knew that when she did it. But, she had been 22, unemployed, and scared. Any girl with shifty morals would have done what she did. Stan had just graduated college and he _wanted_ to marry her. Craig had struggled through two years at Park County and he obviously had a weird thing for Tweek. Not to mention, she'd had Wendy sitting there, egging her on.

Assuming that no one ever found out, Bebe's decision would've actually made lives better. It did, for 8 years or so.

Bebe didn't know what her life was going to look like tomorrow or in 2 weeks or in a year. But she did know that right now she had a gorgeous baby daughter, 4 boys who she loved, and a husband who would, at the very least, never walk away from his children. Bebe wasn't sure what she deserved or didn't deserve, but those three things she had were enough for now. She could handle whatever else came her way because of it.

It got late enough that Zane was asleep on Stan's shoulder and Chase's blue eyes were drooping. Everyone needed a good night's rest. Randy Marsh came and picked up Stan and the boys, since his car was still at Kyle's. Before he left, Stan kissed Kate's forehead and Bebe's as well. She lifted her chin towards the touch. "I thought you were perfect, you know," her dark haired husband sighed.

Bebe had never felt perfect.

* * *

**A/N: Awww, the last chapter! Only the epilogue left! It's slated to be a "one year later" type of thing. Also, I've been dying to write some fluff lately so you may see these families, maybe Creek and Cole or K2 and Miko and Nick, in future stuff of mine. Or I may make up some Style offspring. We shall see. Well, I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear from you!**


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